This weekend, my cousin’s 6 week old baby boy passed away. He just didn’t wake up. yesterday, the family put out a call on Facebook for a commemorative poem, and this was my contribution.
For some reason, his death made me incredibly sad. I cried when I heard, and I keep welling up even now, when I think about it.
I wondered why. (Beyond the obvious, that is. The death of a small person, so perfectly poised and full of potential, is always sad).
And then, when I wrote this, I understood.
This brought back all the emotions I buried when I miscarried my small people. Which is a little weird, since I never met them in the flesh. But I knew them and I loved them. Love. Present tense.
And I miss them.
I miss the first steps and smiles and trials and laughter and joy and all the million little heartaches that would never, in a lifetime, add up to this one. I have inexpressible comfort knowing that I will see them again. And I know we will know each other.
And if I really am a crazy hypochondriac who imagined it all, I won’t be when I get There, and their absence will not haunt me.
But it does now.