Tuesday February 12, 2013,
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Thirteen months ago today, while still grieving for Dalton, Shelby up and left us. Thirteen months of heartbreak, pain, loss, depression, loneliness, rage, mourning the loss of our lives together, of all the things we should have been doing and planning, mourning not knowing what you would have looked like, or how your voices would have sounded, what you would have thought of the dogs, getting to see your little personalities develop.
When I logged on to write today's post, there was a message saying my password was last changed 39 days ago. So that would make it about 405 days since I last carried you (roughly, accounting for leap year and assuming the last time I logged on was to write your birthday post). I still have sensory recall of how Dalton felt the only time I got to hold you, the day you were literally dying in our arms. I feel the velvet softness of your head, resting on the curve of my throat. It was totally different holding Shelby as you died. Your body was cold the instant they removed you from the machines, as if you were already gone.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I generally felt ok while in the appointment, she said I seemed to have a clarity and good direction about what we're planning, she said it sounded like your Daddy and I were in a good place, despite our recent failed attempt to add to our family. After I left the appointment, I came home and took the dogs out for a walk. We went to the park over past the high school, so we could have a long walk. I noticed the parking lot was crowded. I hoped no one had dogs out, as you know how your canine brother Ike is around other dogs. I didn't see any dogs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I looked at the playground and there was a little boy, probably just a bit older than what you would have been Dalton. He had blond hair and was dressed in jeans. Suddenly such a darkness came over me. I was looking for a fight. Something about seeing those children just enraged me. I was hoping the mothers would make some comment or rush to protectively snatch their children up away from my giant dogs. No one did, they hardly paid us any mind at all. I just wanted to walk up to the mothers and say, "Hey, can my dog children play with your children? I would have brought my human children, but THEY'RE DEAD!!". I don't know what came over me, but I was so angered. I wanted to make a stink, to be hateful and bitchy and ruin their day. Needless to say, I held my rageful outburst in check, but I was changed for the rest of the day.
I came home and switched on the TV. It is a bad habit, but I put it on for the background noise, for a feeling of some sort of human interaction. On a rerun of Sex and the City, Carrie was talking about being alone. Her friends planned a big dinner for her 35th birthday, then none of them showed up, leaving her stranded at the restaurant. She even wound up having to pay $70.00 for her own birthday cake that was to have been paid for by her friend Samantha (yes, I know, $70.00 for a birthday cake is quite outrageous, but it was New York City in the late 90's/early aught's). She was alone. I feel alone much of the time. I'm going to the zoo tomorrow with Olivia's mommy and meeting your Aunt Chris for lunch Friday, but I'm generally alone.
Your daddy and I both would like to feel more signs from the two of you. It's been quite a while. Just something, playing with our blinds, visiting with you in our dreams or seeing or hearing examples of your names. Maybe you've been so busy playing with your friends Abram, Chloe, Weston and Olivia. We miss you as much as always, but we're trying to focus on some other projects. It would be delightful if you would bless our plans and help them come to fruition.
I love you darlings,
Momma
