My baby boy,

Hi sweetie, another day of tears. I have figured out the things that really set me off are things I wouldn’t have even thought about until they happened. At the commissary today, Lucas picked up the package of Kinder eggs. Remember how I would always say “I don’t want to have to buy two packs” because you guys wouldn’t get an even amount, but one pack wasn’t enough because it only had three? Well today Lucas picked up the package of Kinder eggs and said “look mom, three eggs three kids”. He was right. We didn’t need two packs anymore. That simple thought led to tears. Also at the commissary, the boys were sword fighting with the balloons on sticks. They were in their own world as a pregnant lady was trying to get passed. I got the boys’ attention and said “excuse us”. She laughed and said “oh, I have three kids and number four on the way. I understand the chaos”. Ouch. I had four kids..or I have four kids? You will always be my son, but now that you’re not with us..how do I reply? “Oh me too”? Then risk the stranger asking and breaking down into tears about how “well I did have four, but my eight year old just passed away”? Just say “me too” and then cry inside that I don’t have four kids on this earth with me anymore?

Daddy and I are trying to process this together, but our methods are very different. I want to just think about you and talk about you all the time. I want to celebrate the boy that you were on this earth and still are. However, daddy doesn’t want to celebrate. Daddy doesn’t want to necessarily talk all the time about you because of how much it hurts. I want to have a celebration of life for you. You brought happiness and kindness into the world, I want to do it to celebrate you. I want to hear stories from other kids and other parents who have met you. Daddy doesn’t want a “celebration”. It’s not a celebratory event. I understand, losing you in no way should be “celebrated”. I want to celebrate your life. Because I want to respect his way of grieving, but also want to grieve how I want to, daddy might not come. It would be too difficult for him, it would hurt too much. However, he’s worried that you would think he just didn’t show up because he didn’t care. If we have the celebration of life and daddy doesn’t make it, I know you already know, but he loves you too much and it would be too painful for him.

Last night, my mind automatically logged “oh, it’s Isaiah” for a second and I had to go back and be like “no, Isaiah is gone”. The first time was when I was lying down in your bed. It was dark and I couldn’t see much. I heard footsteps come down the hall and saw a bunch of hair. My mind thought it was you. It was Lucas. Before bed, Ellie was in your room looking for certain legos to help connect her two sets. I heard her scooping through a container of hundreds of legos and it sounded just like you were in your room. It wasn’t you.

I see you everywhere. I see you playing basketball outside when I pull down to our street. I see you running and attempting to jump and climb up the tree across from the PX. I see you sitting on the couch when I come downstairs in the morning. I see you sitting in your seat at the dinner table. I think about what you would be doing if you were home with us right now.

I haven’t talked to many people about you after everything that happened. What do people say to me? There’s nothing to say. What do I say? I told my therapist today that if our families and friends weren’t physically here at our house, I probably wouldn’t be talking to them either. I just don’t have the energy. I don’t have the emotional energy to go through what happened. I don’t have it in me to continue saying “I have no idea what even happened, there was no warning”. I just keep reliving the whole thing each time. At the end of each time of telling it, I’m left with the same answers..no answers. It’s draining. I want to get past the “I’m not sure what happened, Isaiah suddenly passed away” and just get to the time where any time you’re mentioned it’s just about different happy memories and experiences.

Miss Whitney made me a scrapbook with pictures from when we were with them and Miss Brittany in Missouri and then when we saw each other in Virginia and Pittsburgh. The pictures started at three year old Isaiah. Your scrunched smile and barely opened eyes. I love to reminisce on your relationship with Bella. You two were so close that it was more of a brother and sister relationship. To be honest, I think you learned how to annoy Bella and push her buttons before you did it to Ellie. Miss Christine had to separate you sometimes on the carpet because you would rush to sit on the “B” before her. You would put your hand over the “B” on the playground as you’re yelling “Bella I got your B!” The pictures make me smile and cry hysterically at the same time. I’m glad you formed relationships like that in this hectic lifestyle.

I want you home. I just want one more minute so I can hold you and tell you how much I love you. How incredibly amazing you are. I want to make sure you know. With this sudden loss I really find myself second guessing if you really knew. If you really felt loved and cared for every single day. If you knew how much you meant to me. I know I told you, but was it enough. Let’s be honest though, it would never be enough. Even if I was given my one more minute and squeezed you so hard while telling you “I love you” for the whole sixty seconds, I would still second guess myself. It still wouldn’t have been enough. I wouldn’t be satisfied with it.

I know I say this every time, but please visit me tonight. I’ve been snuggling with your squishmallow you used as a pillow and your Minecraft creeper. Tonight I am going to put your hospital pillowcase on my pillow. Although I am worried about when that smell goes away and I have one less part of you. If you can’t visit, just please give me a sign that you know how much I love you. Somehow, let me know.