Three months ago today we lost our baby Jack. It feels like so much longer to me.
There were only twenty-eight days in this past February. With no 29th, we kind of skipped over the monthly “anniversary” of Jack’s death. It was kind of nice actually. This month, however, I have felt the 29th looming nearer and nearer throughout the last couple of weeks.
But this month I have also spent a lot of time reflecting on what “life” must be like for Jack. I don’t know how things work, and I don’t know what he is “up to”. I would like to think that he checks in on us from time to time and that he hears me when I talk to him. I’d also like to think that he gets to hang out with my dad.
I have only barely touched on my dad’s passing on my blog a couple times. Whenever I remember him or think about him, I am overcome by a myriad of emotions for reasons that are too difficult to explain. During Jack’s life and then his passing, I was so focused on the grief I felt in losing my son, that I didn’t really relate it at all to my dad.
Lately, however, I have been thinking about the wonderful man that my dad was. How many lives he touched, and how many people loved him. How I am so proud to be his daughter. How much he is missed by those who loved him; especially his children and his wife. I was also thinking about how much we are all looking forward to when we get to be reunited with him again (my mom never lets any of us forget how much she is looking forward to it!). And actually, I guess I always imagined that my mom would be the first to meet up with him. I never thought that my own child would be reunited with my dad before I was.
It’s nice to think of the two of them together. I’m glad that Jack had a “familiar face” to return to, and I am certain that my dad was one of the first in line to welcome him home (if not the first). I bet he and my dad “look down” upon us here on earth; grieving and hurt and longing for them, and whisper: “hang in there. It will all be worth it. You have no idea.”
I miss my dad. I miss my Jack. I find peace in knowing that they are together. I like knowing that not only is Jack not “alone”, but that he is with the greatest man that I have ever known.
Someone once asked me if Jack’s death brought with it a return of some of the pain and sorrow that I felt about my dad’s death. The answer is no. I was only fifteen when my dad died, and yes it was very difficult. And yes I am still sad about it. But I knew then, at the young age of fifteen, that my family was eternal. I never questioned it, and I never worried about whether or not I would ever see my dad again. Because I knew it then, I know it now, and there has never been even a moment of the tiniest most minuscule doubt in my mind that my Jack is mine forever. So while I will never be “grateful” that my dad died, I am grateful for the lesson that I learned because of it, and the testimony that I gained.