Letters to Noah: July 2011

Dear Noah,

My sweet, sweet boy.

It's been a while since I've written. It's not because you're forgotten. You'll never be forgotten.

I"m glad you'll never need to know about grief, Noah. You'll never have to feel the pain, and loneliness, you'll never have to experience the awkwardness from 'friends' and the bittersweet feeling of many things that follow.

Grief changes, all the time. At the beginning, it was just so strong- all I could think about- all I could focus on- all I was.
Now, I'm still grieving, I always will be. But it's different.It comes in waves- sometimes unexpected waves. I'm always thinking about you- but sometimes- the thoughts still overwhelm me. I could be playing tea party with Charlotte, or getting dinner prepared, we could be at the park, or driving in the car. The why and what if questions appear. But mostly, lately- the 'I wonder's'. I wonder what you'd be like? what you'd look like? what would your temperament be? what would be your favorite toy? would we be in the same life stage as we are now as a family?
Answers to these questions, I will never know. Yet, I know, that I will never stop asking them. No- I don't ask them out loud. They are in the busy space in my head- circling around while I am trying to get by with my days. They are always there- waiting to be answered- but knowing they never will be.
It's almost like an evil game my brain is playing. However- not so evil- because it does mean I'm thinking of you.

We were in Ontario a for a couple of weeks. It was great to be there. First we went to Kingston to visit with Grammie and Grampie and other family and friends, and then we went to Mississauga to visit friends we made while we lived in there.

It was nice to visit the cemetery and your tree again. Your Grammie is keeping up your spot at the cemetery very well, and your tree- well it keeps up itself!
Being at the cemetery is almost like an out of body experience for me. I don't feel like I get overwhelmed with emotions there, I just sort of feel empty. I"m not sure if this is normal. Maybe I've distanced myself because of the physical distance, that I've always had from the cemetery- but I think the most likely reason is that in order to save myself from going into the deep dark whole of thinking about the physical remains of the boy in the ground beneath my feet- my brain chooses to save itself- and think of the happy memories- his beautiful eyes, skin and hair. My brain chooses to look at the stone and clean it, to make sure it hasn't shifted or sunk, to look at the grass.... I don't want to think of Noah as a dead boy in a casket, doing as all dead bodies do. In reality I understand, of course, that this is the case- I"m not insane, or stupid. I just know that the more I think about this, the less time I'm honouring his life by thinking about him as himself- as the spirit of him.
I'm not sure if this makes sense. Perhaps the cemetery is supposed to be a place that makes you sad, and brings back those thoughts. I think my mind does a good job of sheltering me from the big black whole of depression.

Noah- I think we were with us on vacation.
There were things all around- some I noticed and some others noticed.
I saw a lot of little while butterflies (or maybe moths, I'm unsure) on my trip. One of the was flying around your tree and Hope, Avery, Charlotte and I were there. I saw a rainbow more than once- and it hardly rained. I felt comforted when I was alone- was that you making me feel loved? At the carnival in Brampton, there are thousands of little stuffed animals that are given out to children who play games. Avery and Charlotte didn't get any- because they aren't old enough to realize they get them, and we have ENOUGH stuffed animals!!... but... Leah, the little girl whose family puts on this free carnival in memory of her Brother, Lucas, came over, and gave Charlotte and Avery a little mini frog to play with. Leah doesn't know that frogs remind us of you. Isn't it amazing how you show up.
I hope you continue to do it.
and I hope I continue to notice.