I’m spending time today doing things I have been putting off. Things I know I need or want to do, but doing them just means one less thing left to do for or because of Milo. Today just seems to be a day when it suddenly sets in that I’m never getting him back. Nothing will ever be the same.
I wrote out checks for some of the hospital bills. What’s extra dumb about that, is more than half of them were for Gabe and Lillianna. We had to take them the next day after Milo died, to the same ER no less, to have well checks performed on them because of the unknown circumstances of Milo’s death. So yeah, that stings. It’s like paying a fee for pain and adding insult to injury. I’ve had many ranges of emotions over dealing with the paperwork aftermath of all this. It’s been odd to receive so much mail in Milo’s name. Sometime it’s comforting, like a reminder he was real, but mostly it’s just confirmation that he’s gone.
I’m also trying to mail out the memorial bear to be weighted to his same weight. I say trying because I’m meeting obstacles at every turn trying to get an appropriate price and be able to print a label today. PayPal’s shipping is giving me a price twice the USPS click-n-ship price, but the click-n-ship service appears to be down on their website right now. I can get a price, but not print a label – or I can pay over twice as much through PayPal. In all truth, I don’t want a bear, or a wreath, or a shadow box, or an urn. I just want him back. A lot. I fantasize about seeing him again and being able to hold him.
The roller coaster of grief is always surprising. Sometimes you wish for the hurting to stop forever, and other times all you want to feel is that very real and deep pain. It’s the constant reminder that it was real. It become easier to tell his story like it’s just that – a story. It becomes routine. But it’s when I think about what it was like to have him, hold him, touch him, or hear him that it’s like no story that could ever be retold. It’s a physical memory, and one I feel pretty alone with. No one else knew him like I did. I used to spend so much time just stoking his hair, holding and kissing his little hand, and breathing in his baby scent. How did I know to do that so much? I don’t regret it, of course, but those sweet memories are the most painful right now.
Sometimes the pain is addictive. I want to go down that path of scrolling through pictures and videos. It’s hard and sad. It makes me angry, and then I feel cheated. I stop and look around at my life now and I wonder what everything would have been like if he hadn’t died. I can’t decide what hurts more – the remembering him the way he was, or the wondering what he would be like now.
It’s hard to not tell myself that I had everything and now I have nothing. I still have plenty of good and wonderful things. Today it’s just overwhelming to want the one thing you can never have back.
And then, something happens that makes me smile. As I’m writing this, proof reading, editing, I get an Etsy sale – a cha-ching as they are known in the Etsy seller world. It’s for a design I made for Milo. A funny shirt design I planned to make him a tee shirt of. His love of avocados will live on.