Cold Hard Truth

The truth is, 

having a child changes you. 

Loosing a child destroys you.

I honestly don't think I'll ever ok again. 

I will always be a broken,

Shadow of my former self. 

And that HAS to be ok. 

I lay here on the couch.

The first night in a week I've started falling asleep before 4am. 

I close my eyes and I see Liam. 

And again sleep eludes me. 

My sweet boy laughing because I'm tickling him. 

Him crawling into my lap at bedtime for snuggles and a song. 

His middle of the day naps in my arms because he refused to fall asleep anywhere else. 

Me whispering "I love you Liam". 

The millions of times I whispered in his ear as he slept,

"I'm so proud if you little man. I love you so much. I need you so much. Just keep fighting". 

And I'm broken all over again. 

No I not ok. 

My heart is broken. 

My soul shattered. 

It hurts so much, I don't know if I can take it. 

But I do. 

Every day I do.

Every night I do. 

I feel so lost during the day. 

Feeling as if I should be doing something.

That I'm forgetting something 

I'm always looking at the clock worried about the time. 

And today it clicked. 

I'm still on his schedule. 

I still get up to feed him before I realize, he's not here. 

Sometimes I find myself in the baby aisle, starring at the diapers.

Hand stretched out to grab them. 

Then I remember. 

I catch a glimpse of a cute boys outfit,

I still stop in my tracks to look at it.

Then I remember. 

I'll have his favorite foods in my hands

Then I remember. 

A few times I opened the back door to unbuckle him from his car seat. 

But he's not there.

His seats not there. 

Last night I was up in the middle of the night. 

On my way back to bed I stepped on what felt like a Hotwheel.

My heart expanded in joy,

And I smiled. 

Then I remembered. 

I feel like my life is a cruel joke. 

You like I've been stuck in a dream that's so realistic. 

There are moments I don't know which reality is real anymore. 

But the wooden box,

Sitting on the shelf,

That's real. 

That's my reality. 

I can't hold my son and hear him giggle anymore. 

All I have is a box. 

A cold hard box,

To match this cold hard reality. 

7 Days Till 5

In just 7 days,

my little Liam would have turned 5 years old.

I'm having a hard time grasping the fact that he isn't here.

That I won't be waking him up by singing 'happy birthday'.

That I won't be tickling him until he can't laugh anymore.

It's hard to believe that I won't be planning a party,

or decorating the house.

 

Instead I'm trying to plan something in memory of Liam.

How is this even possible?

I'm so confused by it all.

My heart aches to see him running through the house.

To hear his laughter.

That's the one good thing about PTSD.

I get flashbacks of good memories every now and then.

I can still hear his laughter.

See his smiling face as if it's really there.

I still flashback on all the bad times.

I've tried so hard to run away from them,

but they don't stop.

So I stand there and face it head on,

wait for the flashback to go away.

It's the only way I can survive with less damage.

Here I am stuck between the world of the living,
and the world of the dead.
A piece of my heart will always be in Heaven with Liam.
Yet here I am,
stuck,
trying to find a way to live on.

Birthday parties are fun and happy.
You celebrate,
laugh,
eat cake,
and spoil the birthday boy.

This isn't a birthday party.
It's a memorial thing.
And memorial things are sad.

I have several ideas running through my head to do for little lamb.
I want to have a star named after him.
When I was a kid and my nana died,
I always looked up into the sky.
I felt that when you died,
a star appeared to represent you.
You went to Heaven sure,
but a star would appear for us to see.
It's how I felt as a kid anyway.
I've always loved astronomy,
so naming a star after Liam wouldn't be too far fetched.
And it's something the world can share.

I'm also wanting to release butterflies.
I'm having a hard time getting my hands on caterpillar's or butterflies.
At this rate,
it'll be a butterfly release after his birthday.

I would also like to get a stuffed animal in his memory.
One weighing his birthday weight of 2lbs 4oz.
One weighing his last weight of 23lbs.

Everything else is still up in the air.
Missing him is just so hard.
I still don't know how I wake up every morning.