It’s been one week since our dear Theodore became one of Heaven’s most beautiful angels. One week since I’ve held my sweet little boy in my arms.
I knew this day was coming but no amount of foresight could have prepared me for the all-encompassing ache that has enveloped every layer of my life this last week. The physical effects of grief have left me feeling empty and yet simultaneously heavy and listless. As much as I try to remind myself that my sweet Theo is in a better place, with every breath I take, I yearn for my son. I yearn to hold him in my arms again.
Our house is silent and I ache for the many sounds of Theodore, even if they were atypical. The gentle hum of the oxygen concentrator, the irregular beeping of the oximeter (measuring Theo’s changing pulse and oxygen saturations), the priming of his feeding pump, his stridor breathing, the revolving door of visiting nurses, doctors and CCAC staff members, the many calls from the pharmacy and supply companies. The silence is a resounding, painful reminder of his absence.
We have gone from a family of three, parents of a toddler, to just the two of us. And it feels like we’re starting over. I recognize how blessed we are that Theo’s little brother or sister is on the way (and we of course look forward to their arrival) but this does not in any way ease our grief. We were also desperately hoping that Theo would have had the chance to meet them.
I have been told by parents who have lost children that the grieving will never end but it will soften and one day it will not be all consuming. I have also been told, and seen, that happiness is possible again. My faith in this assurance has provided me with the courage to face each new day.
I’ve decided to keep writing for two reasons: first, I believe that writing will assist me in my grieving process and just as I had hoped that my blog might have provided comfort and inspiration to parents faced with the difficult journey of raising a palliative child, I hope that my writing may now be helpful to parents who have suffered from child loss (though I wish with all my heart that these types of parents didn’t exist).
And second, because I believe that Theodore’s story doesn’t end. It lives on not only for our family but for all those who were impacted and inspired by my little warrior.