How long is a year?

How long is a year?
At once it is infinitesimal, fleeting,
but also it is arduous and tortuous.
As you can live a lifetime in minutes,
so it is compounded by months.
A year can seem longer,
when you see so many years to come.
Busy, or quiet, the time passes unevenly,
like your life is stop-and-go traffic.
The escape of activity is followed
by the uneasy introspection of silence.

A year

My boy is gone elsewhere,
He's not been with me for a year now.
I sometimes feel like I've been dismembered.
Unable to move, sometimes unable to feel.
I know there will come a day on this earth,
when he's been gone longer than he was here.
On that day I shall surely weep.

Oh Ani.

Oh Ani,
my love for you is indescribable.
I dedicate myself to your care.
Though difficult and frustrating at times,
I am not frustrated with you. Rather,
I am usually frustrated with my failure to soothe you.
With my failure to determine what hurts.
Never with you, my dear.
I soar with your smile, and warm with your laughter.
I falter with your paIns, and crash with your cries.
As much as I want you to forget parts of this time of your life,
I want you to remember your strength through it all.
Remember my love and my willingness to be what you need me to be.
My way is to try and fix things,
though I've had to learn to let go sometimes,
and tell you I don't know how else to help you but to love you.

I am reminded...

As the one year mark approaches, I am reminded.
Reminded of that evening, in my room at the hospital.
Of the horrific words the sheriff had for us,
and incredible courage, courtesy and composure Todd & Lisa
displayed towards their extended family.
The words cut me, and I bleed.
No parent should ever hear those words.
If you're sure you want to know,
you can ask me.
Don't expect a quick and smooth response though.

How do you say goodbye?

How do you say goodbye to a little boy?
A little boy who said "Mo!" to tickles?
A little boy who loved his teddy.
A little boy who loved so much.
A little boy who came running to you, squealing.
A little boy who kept the house full of sound (his sister too).
A little boy who loved crackers.
A little boy who loved his family.
A little boy.
Maybe I should forget about saying "Goodbye", and focus on "I love you, see you soon".

Author's note: "See you soon" is from Nate's perspective, not mine.

Why does pain/sadness cover over joy?

Even after the wonderful thing that Ani did last night,
the pain on her face with her gassy stomach almost overshadowed her accomplishment.
Why is this?
Why should I allow my empathetic feelings for her sour tummy blot out something great?
That's sad, in and of itself.
I have a (even more so) new found appreciation of care-givers. Their love and service
comes, even though they see pain, sadness and sorrow. They can see through this, they
can see the potential, and not get themselves down. I envy them for this.

How important is it?

Communication,
a way to express your ideas, opinions, and wants.
Last night, Ani made a choce.
Lullaby first, or stories first.
How would she go about communicating it to me?
She opened her mouth wide like she was singing...
I (thank God) picked up on this and asked her if she was singing, and if that meant she wanted the song first. She smiled widely when I asked.
How wonderful! When I've written that I want to hear her, hear her needs, I heard her loud and clear last night. Perhaps not with my ears, but I heard her nonetheless.
How wonderful.