Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Addison at 3

Life is good. I have a ridiculously bright 6-year-old little boy Calvin, and a spunky chunky 20-month-old little boy Ryder. Our boys love each other so much, it warms my heart. But I can't help but feel like our family was totally ripped off when Addison died. She would have turned 3 on 10/28/12. It was a Sunday, and our family was out running errands and such. I mentioned to Calvin that Addison would have been 3 that day, and he said, "well can we go to her brick so I can hang the butterfly chime in the tree?" I thought it was a brilliant idea. There is a nearby cemetery with a Children's Garden. We got Addison a brick with her name, birth date and death date, which is part of the walkway in the garden. There are 2 trees in the garden, from which various chimes and ornaments left by loved ones hang. Calvin painted a butterfly chime for Addison MANY months ago, but we haven't been to the cemetery since last year when it was placed. So, while my husband stayed home with the baby during nap time, Calvin and I made a trip to her brick, hung her chime in the tree, and laid a pink rose from our garden (interestingly, the ONLY rose in our garden) on her brick. It was sweet of him to think of his sister. This is a boy who points out photos of Addison around the house and tells Ryder, "this is your big sister." It was very sweet, visiting her brick, but I didn't cry. I didn't cry until November 3rd, the night before the anniversary of her death. I like to torture myself, so I waited until everyone in the house was asleep, then I watched the photo montage video the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographer made for us. The music alone makes me weepy. Then I posted something on Facebook about the night she died and my memories of handing her off to the funeral director. The next day I showed Chris the post and he completely broke down. He shook with sobs in the way I haven't seen since the week Addison was alive. These days I've given up on the traditional therapy route. We go to the annual Walk To Remember, we light a candle on October 15th, and I speak on parent panels during bereavement training at 2 of the hospitals in our area (one where Addison was born). Other than that, I take my anti-depressant, work out a few times a week, learn new crafty things on Pinterest, focus on the family that remains, and let time tick by. Time does seem to help the wound not be so tender to the touch. It's hard to think about how our lives would be different if Addison was here. She's not, and she never will be. But she has a place in our family that will not just seal itself off and disappear. We will hang a stocking for her this Christmas. Calvin will continue to teach his baby brother that we were supposed to be a family of 5--not 4. And life goes on. xoxo