Tag Archives: 5years
I have seen over the years, posts of parents sharing how long they are without their child, in years, months, days and even hours. What I thought would be interesting, just overwhelmed and saddened me more.
Oh my gawd it hurts as it gets broken down. I can still remember as if it was yesterday. The softness of his hair. The brightness of his eyes and smile. The kindness in his heart. Then realizing how long it has been since I have heard his voice, touched his soft skin, or felt his loving hugs. 5 years! 5 long debilitating years. Over those years, not only do we have to live our lives without him with us. We also need to deal with ignorance around us. Words that don’t help. Words that hurt.
“It’s been 5 years already? You haven’t gotten over it yet?” No, parents don’t get over their child dying. 1 day. 5 years. 20 years. It all hurts. And it will be forever.
“You still celebrate his birthday? Isn’t that morbid?” Actually no, it honours our son on the day he was born and joined our complete family. It allows us to celebrate him on a very emotional day.
“You haven’t changed his room? Make it an office or something.” Wow! Thanks for the suggestion. An office is a great idea, but don’t suggest that to a parent who finds peace at looking at their dead sons room. Better yet, don’t make a suggestion at all. Until you bury your child, no one wants to hear what you think is “healthy” for us. Some people need to change their child’s room soon after, while others, like us, prefer to enjoy his room as he left it.
Besides all the noise that surrounds us, we have been able to remember Madox on this difficult day. Good and bad. We remember his last days. We remember his last hours. The last breath. The gut wrenching scream from his brother. The utmost hopelessness we felt as parents. It will never leave us. We also reminisce about the good times and memories we shared. His infectious giggle. His unwavering love for us. His goofy noises and faces. Those funny saying that still makes us smile. My favourite still after all these years, was when he was crying during swimming lessons. When I asked him why he was crying he responded “I’m still getting water in my nose even with the goggles”. I started laughing and told him that didn’t make sense. He just responded “I know!” and continued to cry and jumped back into the water. I instantly thought of that moment when I grabbed an old bag the other day and those blue goggles were sitting in there. It definitely put a smile on our faces when I pulled them out.
These days are hard, and I know they will always be hard. We are just learning how to handle them a little better each year. We visited Madox at his plot and laid next to him for a long while as the sun shone down on us. It was peaceful and needed. No one else around us. No words. No outside voices telling us what we should and should not do. Just us and our thoughts.
Madox, you are so missed. We love you with every cell in our body. We wish August 8 had no significance, and that we were just enjoying our summer day like every other family. We are sorry we couldn’t protect you and keep you safe. We are sorry life continues on, while you will always stay 9 years old. We are sorry. We are so very sorry. We love you so much.
Madox was born at the end of March. He was suppose to be an April baby but he was just too eager to join our family. He was tiny but full of life. He clung to me right from the beginning. We didn’t know it at the time, but we needed those 2 1/2 extra weeks to enjoy him a little more.
Madox should have turned 14 years old this year. It has been 5 years since we last celebrated a birthday with him. That doesn’t even sound right. 5 years? It’s a lifetime ago. 5 missed celebrations. 5 missed blowing out the candles. 5 missed notches on the height board. Five. Really hard to grasp. We will forever wonder what gifts he would have requested. What cake he would have asked me to bake. Where he wanted to go for dinner. Things we all take for granted and don’t think twice about. These simple things we dismiss in life, I now yearn for. It keeps me up at night wondering. Wishing. Longing.
Instead we continue traditions we started after Madox died. We go out for a pancake breakfast on his birthday, to keep happy memories alive. Pancakes were Madox’s goto when we went out for breakfast. Looking across the table and not seeing Madox is always difficult to swallow. We try to treat a family to breakfast who are in the restaurant, in honour of Madox. Valin usually helps choose which family we treat, but this year my eyes stayed focused on two littles sitting near us. I think they are twins, enjoying the morning with their mom, dad and extended family. I smile at the sweet little girl sitting by her daddy, walking around in her socks. Then my eyes focus on the little boy. He was wearing a superhero shirt and piling up the creamers into a stack. That instantly brought me back to many days watching Madox and Valin do the same thing when we were at a restaurant. I knew instantly this would be the family this year. This small gesture of buying a family breakfast makes me smile, yet so important. It helps me honour Madox, even if it is small. My only hope for the family we choose in turn, appreciates their kids, their life just a little more. Sometimes we lose that with how busy we all get with our lives and the world.
The other tradition we continue to do is meet at Madox’s plot with family. We all solemnly sing happy birthday, eat birthday cake, and release blue balloons. This always pulls at my heart watching the balloons fade away, up up up into the sky. I hate this tradition but need it to feel we have celebrated Madox. My emotions are everywhere.
We have been doing this for 5 years. How can it be 5 years already? Wasn’t he just diagnosed? Weren’t we just living in the hospital by his bedside? Wasn’t it just yesterday we were begging the world to take us instead of him? 5 years. Looking back, I don’t know how we survived these 5 years. It has been a difficult road. Many tears shed, sleepless nights, and silent screams. Sadly, we have many more years to celebrate Madox without him. Something we can never change. Something we will continue to do, as long as I live.
Wishing our sweet Madox a happy birthday. You are the light that completed our family. You are truly missed. We love you forever.