The 23rd

Tomorrow is the 23^rd… July 23^rd. That date is killing me and it’s only the ‘one month till you’re birthday’ date, not even his actual birthday.

I woke this morning and felt ok. God and I have made some inroads in recent days and I felt a little lighter. I spend time with Him today, quiet and alone. I wasn’t able to calm the storm completely. My mind still swirled and screamed but I was able to sit in His presence and feel Him there. It’s rare these days that I can do that. So, the day started out well enough, considering well enough means I hadn’t collapsed into sobs, yet.

I cleaned the kitchen, too. Yeah, I did the dishes, cleaned the counter tops, swept the floor and cleaned the stove (why does it need to be cleaned when it never gets used, btw?). I haven’t done that in nearly four months. Will and I have each intermittently put out the necessary fires, sort of on autopilot, but not a thorough cleaning all at once.

As I drug the broom across the floor I thought, “Well, I’m doing it and it isn’t killing me. Maybe in the coming months I’ll even be able to cook again.” Then I remembered.

Thoughts of cooking always bring powerful memories of my little hip ornament. I used to love to cook. Not because cooking is particularly pleasurable but for me it was a love language for my guys. I tried to cook most every night. I wanted them to have a home cooked meal, no matter how busy I was. We almost invariably ate all together gathered around the table. Dinner time was so cherished and special and Damon did it all with me.

I didn’t even realize that he had become as much a part of this cherished ritual as turning on the stove or selecting the ingredients. After he died I couldn’t do it. I could barely even be in the kitchen. Thinking of cooking made everything in me turn and twist and scream. No, it’s just wrong without him. I can’t.

Today I stood in that kitchen that was a gathering place for my happy little family and felt the hammer fall, again… No.

I remembered that tomorrow is the 23^rd. How is it that I never know what day of the week it is but I can’t ever seem to escape the date?

I thought of what it would have been like. I would have been planning a 2^nd birthday party. Tomorrow morning I would have swung him from his crib and exclaimed “in exactly a month you will be two!” I would have marveled at how fast the years had passed and laughed at how small his birthday shirt from last year seems now. But it will never be…

Oh baby boy, mommy misses you so much, so so much. Every minute I miss you.