It’s an odd time of the year for me.
It’s the time of the year when I think most about Gabriel. He would be 5 years old this year, tomorrow.
I usually think of Gabriel at least once every day. Often just in passing. It’s especially poignant when I am with my nephews and niece and my children all together. As much love as I have for them all, I feel with a little bit of my heart that there is a child missing.
A child is missing. I am missing a child.
I feel in dwelling on him, as I do around this time of year (starting Mother’s Day, and going through the anniversary of his delivery), that I run the risk of seeming self-indulgent. That I run the risk of seeming ungrateful.
I am extremely blessed in my marriage and my family. I have two wonderful girls who fill my life and my heart, fill it to overflowing. I thank God every day for what he has bestowed on me.
And I still miss my little boy.
Although here’s a confession: I forgot to miss him a little bit recently.
Around Mother’s Day this year, I looked ahead to the anniversary of Gabriel’s delivery.
I noticed it was on a Sunday, so I talked briefly to DearDR about going to go to church as a family, then to the cemetery, then to lunch. He agreed.
But DearDR has his own ritual about Gabriel. He usually marks June 4, as this is the day that Gabriel actually died.
So on Tuesday, when he mentioned he had taken Wednesday off, I was very surprised.
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t take it totally off,” he said. “I have two late appointments.”
“Oh. Why did you take most of the day off?”
“I have a physical tomorrow, first of all,” he explained. “With a new doctor.
“And I was going to go to the cemetery.”
With a jolt, I realized the date. I also realized that I had “forgotten” to think about Gabriel, to miss him. In kind of a knee-jerk reaction, I felt guilty. Which I almost immediately knew was ridiculous.
I have been wrapped up in the everyday details and stressors of my life — what I recently referred to as “the daily” — full-time/overtime work, a household to run, bills to pay, children for whom to care, ear infections with which to deal. Sometimes I forget what day it is, let alone what date it is.
Second, I have set aside the day I consider to be the day to mark Gabriel’s… passage.
And because of these two things, I actually hadn’t given much thought to my son in recent days. When I realized that, I felt bad. Then I got a hold of myself.
I shouldn’t feel guilty for forgetting to think about Gabriel. He is in my heart every day, if not always in my head.
And I shouldn’t feel self-indugent thinking about him, and continuing to commemorate the day I feel is most appropriate. Grief doesn’t have a deadline. There is no day that I will wake up free from my sorrow at having lost a child. It’s just not going to happen. I will never forget my uncle, who lost a 22-year-old son more than two decades ago, saying after Gabriel’s death, “Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s time to ‘get over it’. You’ll never get over it.” As difficult as that is to hear, it is also a relief.
Someday I will wonder what kind of teenager he would have been had he lived. I will tell his sisters about him — we tell them now; we take them to the grave with us, but I am sure they won’t understand for a few years. And I will continue to write about him. And tomorrow, we will put white flowers on his grave. And let him know: We will never forget.
7 thoughts on “Year Five”
XXXXXOOOOO to you, my Friend.
There is nothing wrong with “forgetting” because you are absolutely right: he is in your heart and always will be. Nothing can break that, even a lapse in what day it is.
I don’t know you, and only recently started reading your blog, but ::hugs:: all the same.
It’s good to know that you realize there is nothing wrong with a few moments going by where Gabriel is more in your heart than he is in your head. You are very right in your thinking.
Thanks for the comments everyone.
We received a card from one of DearDR’s friends on Gabriel’s anniversary, and also a card from my mom. It made me cry (thanks, Mom!). But it told me some things I was surprised to read, like how they are amazed that I found the resilience to go forward and have Monkey and Bun.
Not trying to become a mom never really entered my mind when we lost Gabriel. being afraid I wasn’t going to be able to be a mom was a serious worry. But his presence and his loss made me more determined to be a mom.
Anyway, it is nice to know we are not alone, either in our mourning or our remembering.
Thanks for the hugs.
You are an amazing woman. i always remember Gabriel around Aidan’s birthday… I will never forget that phone call from your sister, staring at my new baby boy, and completely unable to comprehend him not being here. and feeling so so sad for you, and guilty that I had my baby boy and you didn’t. and having no idea how to help you.
I feel Gabriel’s absence every time I see you and Aidan together. I will always remember him, and remember how I cried for you both that day.
I love you, and am so happy to be able share the joys of motherhood with you!! Hugs to you and Monkey and Bun!
[…] Or maybe these are the intrusive thoughts that mothers of dead babies have. Along with questions like, do I love my dead baby less because of live babies? And, how could I ever forget? […]
[…] will visit his grave again this year, with white flowers and with hope for the future. I am still grieving; it has become such, though, that… that I […]