7 years too long

 This will be a shorter post than my usual annual loss post as I am still dealing with the surgery healing and the recovery from the carpal and Cubital elbow.  We March!

It has been 7 years now that you are gone.  7 long and difficult years.  2,555 days.  So many people in our lives now have never met you - dont know your sweet smile and sense of humor.  How absolutely huge you were in size and energy and presence - and love.  They have no idea how large a gaping hole you have left in our lives and the lives of everyone who did know you.  They have no idea how hard it is to get through each day with this wound in our hearts and souls.

I have had people who have not experienced this type of loss say to me (and other loss parents), "A wound will not heal if you keep reopening it!",  but this wound will not heal anyway.  It NEVER goes away.

I have had people say - "Man, I worked with that guy a lot, and spent a lot of time with him."  Those statements always make me smile for a couple of reasons, because they are always said with reverence and love for you, and also because my first thought is always "I gave birth to him!"  My soul cradled his soul inside me and I KNEW him and LOVED him long before he was born!  

Both my boys knew our voices the instant they were born - including their dads, and even though Rye was 7 weeks early he looked right at his dad whenever he would talk.  Read the books and talk to them - they will know you when they are born.

Then there are the loss days like today, where it feels like everyone should remember what happened and that you are gone, but they don't and they probably shouldnt even, at least most of them, but it feels to your family as though you never existed for anyone but us - we scramble and scratch and crawl out of the black hole that is your death and try to make sure you are remembered with as much love as we still have for you - that part never goes away either - EVER - and I am thankful for that -the love stays.

Most of your clothes are gone now, except for a few things that I cannot let go of yet, and things from your rooms - even after death you have continued to be a giver.  So many kids have had benefit of your clothes and really your "style" -it seems that that is timeless also. We have family who look just like you and even right down to the "Rye Sign", and in that is also memories of you that are never forgotten even in the every day that is our lives.  For that, I am also thankful.

It is still so strange to have new pictures and never see you in them.  I look for you everywhere, all the time - sometimes I catch a fleeting glimpse of you - in a hi-viz construction zone or in a jacked up pickup truck with the tinted windows that I can't quite see into.... groups of hockey players-turned softball players where you would be if you could be, and always on the ice no matter who is playing.

Rye played only two years of baseball - one at little league - he was about 10, and one at High School as a Senior.

I think even Brix knows what today is, he is being very snugly and not very patient with the Ike - who did not know you (unless you sent him to annoy us)!

This is an older picture and Ike was still smaller, he takes up a lot of space now and tries to sleep on Brix part of the time.

I see you in your brother and your dad often, and in the first years that was so hard, but now I am thankful to have those glimpses of you there - your brother carries on well - keeping your good qualities while still having his own great qualities, personality and Reed-ism's.  I know you are proud of him just like me and your dad are.  

We are still all family - that also never goes away- no matter how many years it is.  We will add members presumably as we go along, and they will hear the stories of you and the tall tales too, and help us to remember those times.  You have once again gained some friends there and we have gained some understanding here as well with the parents who have lost - we are in it together and keep each other going.  Knowing........

Blessed be as we try to march into this next year without you and with you.