I Carry You.

I miss you. Really miss you. Sometimes I’m still confused how life ended up this way. Tonight we have a board meeting at your cemetery. That sounds sad. That is sad. I’m not sure it’s fair that we’re members of a cemetery board, let alone your cemetery. A place where we had no choice but to leave you. We’re moving and I’ve tried my hardest this last week to begin packing your room. It’s amazing that two years later, the smell of your closet can still bring me to my knees. I don’t open it often. It all still smells so new, so unused. A smell that I associate with you because I have nothing else. I remember your Dad calling the hospital after you were born and asking what new babies were bathed in, in hopes of capturing a bit more of you. But we couldn’t. Work has been hard lately. I see women often on probation who are carrying their babies now and are actively using drugs. I wonder each time if their baby will live. I hope they do. Then I wonder why you didn’t. How the universe can sometimes feel cruel for its suffering. The good days outweigh the bad and I have hopes that our future will offer us a little extra light. Our new home is a happy home, full of warmth and good things to come I’m certain. But I hope that you know that as I pack up your things; I am not packing up you. I feel your presence in my heart and I know carrying you was not just for nine months but for a lifetime. Mine.  

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