Five years. Five years since my world was turned upside down. Five years of missing, of yearning, of wondering what if.
My mind races back to the past, and then jumps forward to the present. I think about how back then it hurt to breathe, how just breathing felt like a betrayal to my son. Babies are supposed to outlive their parents. I should have died. He should have been saved.
If anyone told me that I could have some semblance of being happy, or that I would be planning my daughter’s first birthday while simultaneously pining away for a day with my firstborn son, I would have laughed in their face. Life at times seems normal- on the outside we look like a normal family. On the inside- I will never be whole; there is always a piece of me, a piece of this family, that is missing.
It may be five years that have passed, but the pain still hurts. The wound still feels raw. On days like this, the absence of a happy 5 year old’s laughter is deafening. I thought it would be different, that in five years, I could look back and say “yeah, that was a time in my life that sucked. But I’m better now”. I was so stupid for feeling like that, that I could dismiss a piece of my heart.
I miss you, Collin. I miss those baby cuddles that I was robbed of with you, smelling your sweet baby smell. I miss the first smile I never got to see, those first steps I never got to squeal with glee (and pride over). I miss you so much, the ache never goes away. I wish I could jump off the world some days, and wherever I landed, I would be there with you. And we would cuddle, and tickle,and play, and sing songs. I miss never getting to run my hands through your hair, or rub your belly. I miss not hearing your deep baby sleep breathing. I miss it all.
Five years later, the missing doesn’t stop. I miss you so much bubba boy.