Christmas and Memories

My mom and aunt said they both dreamt of Dax in Heaven with Auntie Lolo. My aunt dreamt of yellow flowers and he was running toward her, laughing and smiling. Then my mom dreamt of purple flowers and Lolo was catching him and lifting him up.

My son was born Christmas morning last year. He passed away from SIDS on November 2nd this year. My great aunt passed away Christmas Eve a few years ago. Christmas was very hard. My mom kept reminding me that he’s safe and with Auntie Lolo, waiting for me. I told my mom that I’m waiting to die. I’m surviving because I want to go where he is, and because this new baby growing in my belly right now needs me here. I feel so far away from him. My heart feels so far away from me. He had more of my love than I ever even imagined I could be capable of feeling. My little boy was and still is my ray of hope, my reason for being. I saw a tattoo online and, as much as I hate copying tattoos, this one made me cry every time I read it. I can’t even say it out loud without crying. It said “…I am because you were” and I’d like to have a little picture of his favourite stuffed toy, this weird little plaid donkey, at the end of it. He would get so excited and start kicking his legs and smiling when I would give him his donkey to play with in the truck. 

I go into his room sometimes. When I need to feel closer to him. When I open the door, all I smell is our old house. The subsidized townhouse we lived in from when he was about a month or two old until I met my boyfriend. We had officially moved in just days before he passed, though we hadn’t slept at our place in over two months and half of his stuff was here. But that smell reminds me of him. Of our time together, just he and I. Of the late nights spent pacing the living room and kitchen or taking a couple steps forward and back in the bedroom to get him to fall asleep. Of sharing my bed with him, the late night feeds where I would just put my breast in his mouth and we wouwill do both drift back to sleep. Of waking up to his beautiful face every single morning, right beside me. I miss a million little things. I have a running list of them I add to from time to time when I think of something he did that I don’t ever want to forget. But it’s everything… I keep running through my mind how each and every part of his tiny little body felt in my hands, how his cheek felt against my lips, his head on my chest and cheek. How he felt in my arms. How he felt leaving my body when I gave birth. I never want to forget. He is my whole heart. If I lose those memories, I’ve lost my heart. 


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