When It's Hard to Know . . .

Thomas would have been two today.  It's hard talking about him in the past tense.  Sure, he's gone and we've accepted the fact that we will never see him again this side of heaven, but it's hard to know sometimes how to talk about him.  There's no manual for this.  In the English language there are certain rules to follow when it comes to using a past or present tense, but there are no guidelines about how to keep the memory of our baby boy alive.  Do we talk about him as if he's still with us or as if he's not here?

It's just hard to know.

"How many kids do you have?"

"How old are your kids?"

"So Eli (our 4-year-old) is the youngest?"

"You have two boys and one girl?"

How do we answer these questions?  We've answered them so many different ways in the past 81 days (yes, I'm still counting and probably will keep track for awhile).  Sometimes we just say we have three kids.  Is that wrong of us?  Sometimes we say we have four kids, but then you risk having to explain yourself, or worse--having to make the questioner feel bad because they "brought up a bad memory."  I don't know.

It's just hard to know.

Today we faced the dilemma of how to best remember Thomas on his 2nd birthday.  He's not here with us.  Do we still have cake?  Do we have a birthday party for him even though he can't make it?  Do we sing happy birthday to his empty chair at the table?  Do we celebrate?  Should we be happy?  Will remembering him just make us more sad?

It's just hard to know.

It's been a tough day.  It's been tough because of the emptiness.  This was supposed to be a day where we celebrate.  All day I could just see him blowing out his candles, opening his presents, us singing to him as he smiled so big, diving into his cake and just being the center of attention like he always was.  All these memories are conspicuous reminders of what might have been . . . what should have been . . . and what will not be.

We went to lunch as a family to celebrate, and his absence was so obvious.  After visiting his grave we went to the Sea Aquarium at Crown Center in downtown Kansas City.  He would have loved seeing the fish, the water and especially the rocks.  I spent most of the day being reminded of how his face would light up and he would say "ooooohhhhh" and point to whatever had just grabbed his attention.  He would have done that a lot today.  He was constantly on my mind.

We had a cake with two little candles.  We sang happy birthday to Thomas.  We ate the cake.  We celebrated, but he couldn't make it.  His absence was conspicuous.  It was a tough day.

It was tough because this was the first "milestone" day we've experienced since losing him.  Yeah, we went through Christmas without him but we were still so numb that I don't really remember much about Christmas anyway.  There will be many more days like today where it's just going to be hard to celebrate without him.  Easter, Mother's Day, Father's Day, family vacations, the anniversary of his passing, his first day of kindergarten, his high school graduation . . . all will be so difficult because he won't be here.  There will be many more tough days like today.  

But it's also been a good day.  It's been good because so many people remembered it was his birthday.  So many people knew this would be a tough day for us.  It was a good day because even though his absence was so obvious, it was also good to do something fun as a family in his honor.  Today was about him.  Today was about doing something that he would have enjoyed and the thoughts of him being happy made us happy.  In the midst of our emptiness we have found ourselves filled.

We are still amazed at the memories that can be made in 21 months.  Even though it's hard to think about him being gone, we are so blessed to have had the time with him that we had.

We have a son that some will never know.  Samuel, Lucy and Eli have a brother who is only in their memory.  Today IS his birthday.  We have four kids . . . three are still with us and one is having a birthday party in heaven today.  

Happy Birthday, Tommy.  We love you so much and I don't know if words exist to adequately portray how much we miss you.  I don't know.  It's just hard to know.