Dear Sweet Thatcher,
It's been two years. Two years of living without you. Two years of birthdays and two years of holidays, both of which are stifling. Every celebration seems tainted now; forever tarnished by your absence. There will always be an empty stocking, an empty basket, a person missing in every photo we take.
Today we will honor you by remembering your tiny feet and your soft squeaks. We will eat the cake your daddy ordered for you at the foot of your grave...the cake that I couldn't bear to buy this year. You would be so proud of the way he has taken so much on his shoulders. He has quietly stepped into the role of party planner and holiday maker because he knows I just can't function normally around these things. He entertains your brother and sister so well on the days that I need to be alone with my thoughts. Your dad is truly a gift that I don't deserve.
It's hard to put into words what two years without you has done to me. I still think about you so many times throughout the day. However, I can finally make it through the day without crying, and for that I am grateful. Although the hurt has now become a persistent ache, my memories of you and love for you have not faded. I still remember every detail about your face and your tiny body. I have vivid flashbacks of that day brought on by the cry of a baby or a certain smell. I still have your blanket we used to wrap you in my closet and I can't bring myself to wash it.
Two years of surviving has made me love you more and changed my perspective on so many things. The LORD has been so gracious to me by giving me to opportunity to carry you, love you, and grieve for you. He has gently answered my cries and opened my eyes to truths I would not have otherwise sought to find. He has faithfully been revealing Himself to me through this deep valley. Two years have brought both the bitter and sweet.
I will forever love you,
Mommy
