We've had to learn to live with the fact that we had a healthy, thriving, beautiful son that was laid down for a nap, on his back, and never woke up. We've had to accept that we don't know what caused his perfect, little body to spontaneously shut-down. We've had to live through the fear of having another child, terrified that it would happen again. We've had to learn to sleep with one eye open, in an almost constant state of panic, ever since Judson was born. We've had to learn that grief changes, just as we think we've got a grip on it. We've realized we now carry the longing that Judson unknowingly has, as he grows up without his older brother. We are doing our best to explain to him, why his brother isn't here, despite not having any answers. We've accepted that what is lost, cannot be replaced.
It's been six years since we lost Abram. We are painfully aware that no matter how much time goes by, it doesn't heal this gaping wound. We have learned how to cope with it, but it is always there. We will forever be missing a piece to our whole...this is our constant. While social media inundates us with endless purges of almost every thought, action and discomfort, we suppress our sorrow. We know that people tire of it, we've essentially been told as much. We have learned to be selective in who we share with, and cherish those that encourage us to do so.
So, on this Day of Remembrance, we are choosing to honor the sorrow that we have in Abe's absence. We are wearing our ribbons with pride in our ability to live on with love.
We Love and Miss You Always, Our Little Star
