This morning, Jack -- who usually sleeps through the night -- woke up at 2:30 AM and cried for 5 minutes.
It was at 2:30, one year ago today, that I got the first call that you died.
Jack was only 10 days old.
While nursing him that morning, I wept over his head.
He is too young to know what he remembers, but I do.
This week last year, I began a countdown to Jack's arrival. You began a countdown too... only we didn't know it.
After a 2month stay in the ICU, surgeries, interventions and a trach, the hospital released you into the care of a nursing home. To recover. But you never did.
And almost one year later, I still miss you so much.
It hurts. But I believe you stayed just long enough to make sure Jack made it here safely. And then you let go.
You were always selfless like that. Thank you. For everything.
Dotyn,
Ever since you passed, I've been a lot more... let's call it "aware"... whenever I find myself alone in the dark. The feeling was much stronger in the weeks following your death, but now even though I'm in a more rational place, it hasn't fully gone away.
I wonder constantly, if I were to see your apparition, would I be happy or afraid? Maybe just surprised.
You're so deeply imbedded in my heart, I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that I feel you with me everywhere I go, though...
Just one request if you decide you want to stop by and say hi: any time is welcome, but daylight visiting hours are preferred.
Dotyn,
It took me a little longer than I planned, but here it is. I got a little choked up mixing the batter.
I was scraping the side of the bowl, and suddenly remembered how, when we Keisha and I were younger, you would take over mixing when the batter got too heavy for us.
I made it with love. This recipe is a priceless gift from you. I hope it makes you proud.
Dotyn,
As I type this, I'm on my way to visit your body. It's strange for me to think about, because I know you - the person I love and miss - are not there.
So why do people visit graves? I guess I'm going because its the only place I can think of to go. It is Mother's Day weekend, after all. Maybe I'm hoping that a glimmer of your spirit remains with your body. Waiting to console and reassure anyone who comes to visit. Well here I come.
Dear Dotyn,
Today would have been your 79th birthday. I guess that makes it your first birthday in heaven...
I've been thinking about you more than usual, and I've decided to bake you a cake. A caramel cake. Your cake - your mother's recipe - it is my tribute to you. I hope, wherever you are, you like it.
Happy birthday, Dotyn. I love you.
It's the middle of the night and I'm listening to a thunderstorm thinking of you. You always told us to stay off the phone during storms. I wonder if blogging from a cell phone counts.
Two days from now will mark your birthday, as well as Jack's tenth month. I didn't expect to cry, but here I am typing through tears.
