At the end of December in 1999, I was in Cincinnati, Ohio. With my almost 6 month old. He had undergone two heart surgeries, two catheritizations. Many doctor visits. He came through all like a champ. With Mighty Mike embroidered on a blanket.
The promise of not only a new year but also a new decade. A very new chapter in my life as a new mom. To this most fantastic little one.
I was ready for the adventures that awaited us. In this new decade.
At the end of this December in 2009, I am in Tallahassee, Florida. With my son's memory. He had undergone three heart surgeries, seven catheritizations. Many doctor visits. He came through those like a champ.
And yet. On the morning of April 9th. He died. Inexplicably. Without warning.
2009, and this decade, are coming to a close. And I should be ready to leave them behind.
I have this need to hold onto this year.
This last year that I spent with my son laughing. And talking. And playing. And dreaming.
The last year of Michael's life. Not a full year. Just three months. Nine days.
And so as we usher in 2010, it is not with joy. Or the promise of a better year.
It is just the first, of many, years. That Michael will not be with us.
I want to hold onto 2009, as horrific as it has been.
Because at least for part of it.
Michael was running. And laughing.