Thursday, June 13, 2013

And in just a moment

And in just a moment I realize his Legos mean the world to me and I wish I had watched all the moments of his little hands carefully working with them.

And in just a moment I feel how precious anything he had last touched becomes like gold to me and I want to run my fingers up and down and all around to try and feel some connection to his skin or maybe some lingering smell.

And in just a moment I can consume myself with pictures that are priceless treasures no amount of money can buy. I obsess over them taking in every expression, every article of clothing and even every little thing that was in his hand wondering where those things are now.

And in just a moment fear can overtake me when I remember something I have forgotten about him, a phrase he would say, a scar on his face, a toy he had and I wonder to myself, "what else about him has left my memory."

And in just a moment I see kids growing up including Haleigh Raye. She's getting so tall and he's not. What would he have in common with her. With other kids. What would he be doing with them right now. What sport would he be playing in. What toy would he like me to get him. Where exactly is he...? What is he doing right now? Right this minute.

And in just a moment I forget he is gone. I call for him. I grocery shop for him. I look for him.

And in just a moment I realize...I remember.

And in just those moments I experience an unexplainable hurt, solitude and loneliness. I know the ache of being torn between two worlds. His and hers. I know the desire to live out life with Haleigh Raye, to watch her grow up, to guide her on this journey but still wrestling with a longing, a want that I have no control over.

And in just a moment it hits me again and again...the moments she needs from me in life are no longer moments I will be able to give to Noah.

He doesn't need me in anyway form or fashion.  He is much better off then any of us here. But it still doesn't make it any easier with the aftermath we are dealing with. I'm trying to understand "the bigger plan." I'm trying to comprehend "it's not for me to know this side." I try to reason with myself. I tell myself I lived 26 years without him and I was just fine. He just was passing through my life and I will be the one who is ok.

And in the next moment, the next breath, still yet, still to this day, there are moments I beg, bargain and barter to have him back with me. With us. It could happen. It's just been a moment. It's just been months since I held him, touched him, texted him...kissed him. Things I took for granted just months  ago which, in a moment, has turned into

a year ago.

And in just a moment it won't be months.  We will add the words I've come to dread to add for some time now. A year.

 A year without Noah Dean.