My baby boy,

My baby boy,

I lost two more pieces of you today. Two more things make you feel ever farther away.

A pair of your swim trunks have been in the truck since a week or two before everything happened. We went to the beach, you changed in the truck, your swim trunks got left in there, and after everything happened I just wanted them to stay there. They accidentally got brought in and washed. Isaiah, I cried because the swim trunks that you wore got washed. You probably think it’s insane, but I got upset.

Then on my run today, I ran past the vine tree you loved to swing on. They cut all the roots hanging down and there’s nothing to swing from now. I cried during my run. If you were here, you would be upset they took all the fun away. I’m not sure how fast they grow, but I feel like it’ll be at least a year.

I can’t lose you any more than I already have. You have been gone since May 31st. So why is it that these little things that just somehow are connected with me hurt so much. Even though you wore the swim trunks, it’s not like they smelled like you. We were going to move away from Hawaii eventually anyway, so why the bid deal about the tree? It just all has new meaning since you’ve been gone. It’s these last tangible things I have of you that I feel like are an “end” even though that happened like five and a half months ago.

It’s been a darker last few days. Your siblings were all running around the house today playing together. It’s bittersweet. On one hand, I love seeing them act like kids and hear them laugh. On the other hand, I can literally picture you in the chaos with them.

I’m losing faith in a lot of things. I really hope there’s an “after” where I will get to see you again. I love you so much, my baby. Goodnight and sweet dreams.