Friday, July 3, 2015

Day 143 and The Little Lasts

Today is the 143rd day since Sam passed away.  Why is that number significant?  Well, let me tell you. He was with us for 143 days, which means tomorrow he will be gone longer than he was here.

In a few online support groups I'm a part of, other moms talked about the day their child was gone longer than they were here, and I thought it was a strange milestone. I feel like the last 143 days have gone by so much faster than those we had with Sam.  I feel a new wave of sadness as I realize that time marches on. 

But we're 143 days closer to spending eternity with Sam. We are 143 days closer to experiencing all the things in heaven that are so much better than the things we have started realizing we're going to miss out on.  Don't get me wrong. Hear me when I say I know that Sam isn't missing out on anything here, but we are!

Stephen and I have gotten to the point in our grief that we're realizing things we never expected.  For example, Harper started potty training in April. When I bought the last box of diapers, I had a moment where I thought, "Yay it's the last box of diapers."  Then I realized, "It's the last box I'll ever buy for my own children."

The same kind of thing happened yesterday when I was updating a few things in the girls' bedroom.  How cute is their room?!

I got the arrow marquee sign from Hobby Lobby. Two AA batteries and a switch on the side. Go getcha one.

We finally got a bed for Harper this week. Emory and Harper have been sharing a twin-sized bed since February. Bless. 

Anyway, yesterday I put away the changing pad that was still on top of the dresser, and then it made me sad that I don't need a place to change diapers anymore. These little last things that I didn't even consider would be things that would make me stop and sit down for a good cry.

Our people have been amazing. The hands and feet of Jesus, truly. Earlier on in our grief, I worried about the point when people wouldn't mention Sam's name or ask us how we're doing.  Apparently this happens to other people. People I have known forever and people I don't even know continue to support and love us. No one knows what to say. Nothing anyone can say will bring Sam back, but hugs, prayers, asking questions, and speaking his name show us that you love us and honor Sam. Thank you. We have the best people, I'm sure of it. 

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