My Sweet Nora,
It's been six months. Today the pain is raw and the grief overwhelming that it feels like only yesterday I was happily expecting to bring you home and meet you for the first time face to face. But at the same time the concept of you being alive, inside me, well and whole is unfathomable. More like a dream.
You know I wish I could meet you in my dreams or better still in that astral space between sleep and wake. You know the place, where real dreams are born and wishes granted. Sometimes in that space I feel I can climb the heavens and find peace. Because there it is that I forget for a split second that I didn't lose you, I forget that you are gone. Even in my dreams I know you're dead. But in the safe place between this plane and the next - that's where I hope you find me because that's where I still find peace.
You know I should really be writing about the real life aches and pains instead of wishfully hoping to meet in a space that has no name. Did you know I think about you all the time still. I cry more then I did in the lull of tears after the initial grief. At times it seems to get harder instead of easier. Mostly when I imagine what you would be doing now. How you and I would be having tummy time with George on the floor next to us, your dad would come over and lift you up as you begin to laugh at his funny faces but be comforted by his touch like I am.
But my sweet Nora, that is a different family. One that hopefully lives an innocent life in another dimension not knowing the quick sand of grief we wade through moment by moment.
I miss you honey. It's like I need you but can't find you. And I search for you everywhere, in the trees, the starry night sky, upon your father's face, and even within the mirror looking at my own reflection.
So honey, if you can please visit me tonight, in the peaceful place between sleep and wake. I will read you a bed time story as I so long to do. I hope to find you there.
Love Always & Forever,