Monday, January 9, 2017
Now that the memorial service, burial and celebration of life are over... now that all of my family and other out of town guests have left...now that I have to live without Rowan...now that we have to try to find our new normal as a family...now what? That is where I am today. It was a very difficult day. I took Ian to school, and then I went back to bed. I picked Ian up from school, and then I went back to my room.
I went to take a bath (the first one since Friday)... I used Rowan's monogrammed towels.
I saw his tub toys, still sitting on the edge of the bathtub...
I used his bath wash, so I could smell like him...
I saw his toothbrush and Avengers cup, right next to mine when I brushed my teeth...
The last two blankets that covered his failing body, are laying on my bed.
I have slept with his original "green frog" wubbie every night since he died. I fall asleep with it in my hand. When I wake up, I don't have to search the bed for it...it's still clutched in my fist.
I walked downstairs, and he still has unopened Christmas presents under the tree...
This is SO HARD. He is everywhere. His things are everywhere. I don't want them to be gone. Just like I don't want him to be gone. But it is still very hard...moving forward.
I laid in the tub, crying, thinking of him, talking to him, asking him "how am I going to do this?" I just kept hearing his tiny voice tell me, "Every day...you will get stronger." That is the mantra he and I recited every day of his last month or two in ICU.
A few minutes later, I checked my phone and this is my Facebook memory that popped up:
Today is literally the anniversary of the first day I started this blog, about Rowan, 6 years ago. I felt like he was telling me "Don't stop blogging Mommy. Don't stop telling the world about me."
Next, as I was getting in bed (again), I picked up the journal that he and I wrote in during his 6 month transplant journey in Seattle. The last day he himself felt good enough to write in that journal was just before he moved to ICU, just before he received his stem cells for transplant #2. This is all he wrote that night...
Take 2...take 2...
He was referring to his second transplant...his second chance at life.
I guess this is my take 2 now.
I don't take that as that I need to completely start over. I don't take it as I need to forget the past. But I do take it as encouragement from Rowan...to continue...to keep going...to move forward...to keep trying to share his story, and through those stories, God's light with the world.
I still have a lot of grieving to do. I lost my mother and my youngest son, the baby of the family, within 3 weeks of each other. I cared for him for 10 1/2 years, rarely leaving his side, especially for the last 6 months in Seattle. It will undoubtedly be extremely difficult. But Rowan is giving me gentle reminders, of the importance of me moving forward.
I promise to continue Rowan.
Starting tomorrow, I will start telling the stories of these last few weeks since your death. Then, I will tell all the stories about you that I never had the time to share.
Keep motivating me Rowan.
Keep sending me signs.
And I will keep sharing your light with the world.
I love you, and I miss you.
I've had 26 days without you...
but you've had 26 days with Jesus...