Has it really been 4 years?

I know that some of you have been readers here for quite some time and others are fairly new. If you've been a reader for a while, you may remember this post from a year ago about the tragic death of a very special little boy. If you haven't yet read the post, be warned that it is not an easy read in many ways and I understand if you aren't able to read it at all or in part.

It's so hard to believe that it's already been 4 years since that unimaginable day.

I'd like to preface whatever follows with this: While I have thought about what I'm about to write, I won't know exactly what I'm going to write about or how it will come out until it's out. That said, thank you for your patience as I muddle through my thoughts.



Most of the time I feel like I could fill an entire book with my thoughts about his life, his death and how the world somehow manages to go on without him. Other times I'm at a complete loss for words about any of it. And so today, as I have every January 24th and as I will every January 24th to come, I'll try to put some of it into words for the world to read.

There's still hardly a day that goes by that I don't think about him - his smile, his laugh, the way he could turn a less than fantastic day around just by lighting up when I walked into the room. I wonder what kind of little boy he'd be now at almost 4 years old. Would he still love Elmo? Would he be Hell on wheels? Would he have been our ring bearer? So many "What ifs..." and "Would hes..." that I'll never know the answers to.

Growing up I was taught the importance of forgiveness. As an adult I understand that sometimes, and I'd even venture to say most of the time, it's important to forgive for yourself and not necessarily for the person you're forgiving. In many ways it lifts a burden from your shoulders - like the problem isn't yours anymore. I get that. I understand that. On some level I even want that.

But I can't forgive her. It's been 4 years and I still cannot forgive his mother (and her boyfriend at the time, now husband) for what she did to him. She was his mother. Mothers protect their children. Accidents happen. I know this, but being an accident doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change the fact that he's not here anymore. I know others who have been able to forgive her, and I kind of admire that about them, but I just can't. I'm still angry at her.

Every day I'm angry at her.

She took away so much from so many people in such a huge way. I understand that she'll have to live with what she did and what happened for the rest of her life, but so will everyone else. Every day I wake up, every day my husband wakes up, we have to deal with what she did. It's changed us. It's changed everyone. Not all changes have been for the better either, but they're there.

And every day we wake up we go on. The world goes on. Sometimes it's almost like nothing happened and then sometimes it's like the world tried to end, but didn't quite. There's destruction and wreckage, but those who are left manage to pick up pieces and carry on. It's not the same world we had on January 23, 2009, but we're managing - for the most part.