"One year later"...I don't know what I expected...

I don't know whether to call it a build up, or a count down, when you approach the first anniversary of your child's death.  There is anxiety, post traumatic stress, memories, nightmares, savoring the final moments, longing for more time... an entire whirlwind of emotions. 

I have felt like a cyclone the past few weeks and even months as December 15th came closer and closer.  Of course I dreaded it's arrival (though I wish there was a word for worse than dreading something).  In some ways I thought it was a milestone I would never even make it to, so that tricked me into thinking there might be some sort of relief once I did.  At other times, I felt guilt that I would still be here and he wouldn't, a year later.  

Our family has the added component that Rowan died on his sister Zoe's 22nd birthday, and just 5 days before his brother Ian's 17th birthday.  December 15th will always be Zoe's birthday, but we will never escape the fact that it is the anniversary of Rowan's death too.  We have to learn to celebrate her, and mourn and remember him, simultaneously.  Then, recover from that in just a few days, and celebrate Ian.  December 20th, will always be Ian's birthday.  All of my children are important, precious, loved, special.  We want them to know and feel that, despite the tragedy of last year.

December will never be the same for us though, it just won't.

This year, the first anniversary, we tried to escape, to distract ourselves, to "get away"...and we did, to an extent.  We asked Zoe where she would like to go, what would she want to do, especially since last year she spent December 15th flying emergently from San Antonio to Seattle with Brian and Ian, to be there with me as her little brother was taken off life support.  How do you get that out of your mind as a young adult...as any member of the family? 

Zoe chose New Orleans this year (one of Rowan's favorite places to go).  She wanted us to be on Bourbon Street on December 15th, her birthday and Rowan's Heaven day, toasting to him with Jameson (his middle name).  So that is what we did.  We took a mini-vacation.  We didn't even tell very many people we were leaving town.  This time was for our family. 

We did enjoy each other, and our trip.  We had Lucky Dogs, shrimp and grits, gumbo, bread pudding, and beignets (Rowan was never allowed to eat any of those foods on Earth, but we bet he's getting his fill in Heaven). We stayed at a nice hotel, and each had spa treatments (thank you Tessa!).  The city was beautifully decorated for Christmas, we heard lots of great street musicians, saw a wedding party celebrating and listened to a second line band outside our window one night.  We met up with one of Rowan's best friends and heroes, who eventually became one of his pallbearers (Love you Matt!).

I brought Rowan's blankets, wubbys and a stuffed animal that we each had given him, for us to sleep with at the hotel.  We toasted him, we laughed, we cried, we remembered him...but we still celebrated and had fun with Zoe and Ian.  Ian had his first street corner Lucky Dog and his first Hand Grenade (shhhh;).  Zoe had bread pudding from 6 or 7 places for her birthday over the course of the weekend (also shhhh;).

But, I don't know what I expected to happen after this trip...after December 15th, 2017 had come and gone.

I don't know what I expected...

but let me tell you what I felt today coming back into our empty home.

Nothing had changed. 

Rowan still wasn't walking in the door with us. 

We didn't carry him in sleeping from the car either. 

His little footsteps still aren't heard. 

His giggle isn't here. 

Before we go to sleep, we won't all say prayers together, the 5 of us.

He won't be in my bed with me tonight.

I still won't be able to sleep without the sounds of his pumps, machines and equipment.

I won't wake up with his arm across my neck.

I won't carry him downstairs asleep in the morning.

I still don't have another tomorrow with him.

He is still gone. 

These are forever the last pictures I have of him with each of us on this Earth (that I am willing to share) in my phone, on my laptop... 

One year later... I don't know what I expected...

It isn't easier... it's just not.

I tried Zoe and Ian, I really tried,

and every year, every month, every week, every day,

sometimes hour by hour or minute by minute,

we will all have to keep trying.

That is all we can do...

until we are all together again...

in Heaven.

***maybe tomorrow I will be able to post pictures of the fun we did have in New Orleans this past  weekend.  But tonight, walking back into this too quiet, too empty house, my heart hurts too much.  This is raw, this real, but this is what it feels like one year later, at least to me***