Happy Birthday Bud

Wow. Six years old you should be. It is so hard to believe that six years ago today I got to hold you in my arms. Six years ago today I got to meet you and see how beautiful you were. I love you just as much today as I did then.

Today we did some things around town to try to leave a mark on the world in your honour. To try to make other people smile because you existed. Your sister was so excited to hand out flowers and chocolates to strangers. I'm not sure why she picked the people that she did, but she scoured the stores to find the perfect people to give them to. When people asked why she was giving them the flowers she proudly (yet quietly and shyly) told them 'Because it's Benjamin's birthday". She was so proud to do it for you. Jackson didn't hand any out, but he was still excited to do it for you. He's just too shy. Your baby brother would have been happier just eating all the chocolates himself, lol! They all know about you and some days they miss you so much. It's amazing to me that they can miss you so much even though they never got to actually meet you. Maybe they miss the idea of you? Nonetheless, the fact that they miss their brother makes me sad and happy all at the same time.

I know I miss you. I miss the six year old boy I should have demanding to have a certain toy, certain dinner, certain cake. I say 'demanding' because it's what you should do! It's your day. Your day to choose what to do, where to go, what to eat. I also miss the baby I grew inside of me and the baby I held and kissed and never wanted to let go. I miss you so much that my arms actually feel empty and my heart actually aches. That feeling will never go away. And I really don't want it to. If it goes away then it means I don't miss you. I can't imagine that ever being true. To love you is to miss you. And baby boy, I love you so much.

I was unpacking some boxes the other day and came across the blanket you were wrapped in. It hurt so much to find it in the bottom of a box, folded so neatly. It should have been on your bed, torn and faded and worn out. It should have that funky smell of a prized blankey. It shouldn't have crease marks from being folded and stored away because it's too sad to look at.

Six years. And yet, just yesterday.

Mommy loves you Bud.
I always will.