I snuggled and laughed with my daughters.
I hugged and kissed my sweet mama, who has been so patient and gracious and loving to me as I have been ignoring Mother's Day since Owen died.
I went to church and wept as the choir sang the song we sang as we buried Owen. I let the words wash over me, my tears falling silently.
I knelt at my firstborn son's grave and brushed the dead grass off his marker.
As I hugged my mama and wished her a happy Mother's Day, I thanked her and whispered that this day is finally starting to get easier. And it's true though a part of me felt bad for saying it. It felt like I was admitting that it is easier now to not have my first baby here with me for Mother's Day- which I don't think could ever be true. But I am learning to live this life I have been given... I am learning.
Brushing the dead grass away... wiping his marker clean with my hands. I ran my finger over his name, and washed it with my tears. I whispered secret words to my firstborn son and told him that I love him, and I miss him.
I ache to see him, to talk to him and hug him, for us to be together as a whole, unbroken family... and I have great hope that one day we will do just that.