Until We Meet Again

I feel closer to them here, somehow.

The frigid stone against my back, the cool grass beneath my legs, the moon high above me casting an eerie glow against the cobblestones.

Laughter rang through the night, little kids erupting with sugar and happiness as their parents kept careful watch, smiles on their own faces.

Innocent laughter is a drug I find myself immune to, anymore.

I used to love it, those gleeful little giggles when my fingers touched his soft little tummy, and his chubby legs would kick and flutter in happiness. When his big brown eyes would light up and his toothless mouth would open wide with loud, peeling laughter.

I could have danced to his music for the rest of my life.

He was a pumpkin, just last year. His little body ensconced in bright orange, the plump costume over layers of black and orange to keep him nice and warm. His cheeks bright red, those doe eyes full of such wonder as he gaped at all the decorations, the people he’d never seen before, the general buzz in the air.

“Trick or treat” rang through the streets and his legs kicked excitedly against my chest where he was firmly strapped. He didn’t seem to mind though, his soft fingers wrapped so tightly around a single one of mine it was a wonder we hadn’t melded into a single entity.

With my husband’s hand in mine, our little boy fastened to my chest, we walked through the night. Little kids swarmed by the dozens and we watched in mild fascination as candy was traded from hand to hand with the speed of professional gamblers. They’d smile and giggle for a moment before sprinting to the next house on the row, followed by a supervising adult with a long-suffering look on their face, but a smile to boot.

It was perfect, that scene.

It was what I’d always wanted. A family of my own. And I finally had it in my grasp, one hand in that of the man who’d stolen my heart with that first smile, and the little terror who’d stolen the rest of me with his first breath.

With a flash of headlights my world changed irrevocably.

“You know,” I whisper, my hands, damp from the wet grass, drag across my jeans as I speak. “I didn’t know if I’d make it. Not today.”

I chance a glance behind me, as if the stone could speak the words he would no doubt know by now. But, as always, the wind and rain are my only response.

The disappointment races through my veins and I shake my head against the tears that threaten to fall.

Aidan James Blane

12 January 2019 – 31 October 2019

Beloved Son, Taken Too Soon, Loved Forever

“To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.”

The words are carved into my soul, those fateful dates both the happiest and worst of my life.

The headstone next to us is that of my husband, the content much the same, but it’s the date that draws my eye.

Today’s date.

October 31.

I used to love Halloween, used to revel in the magic of a night dedicated to being something else. I loved wearing mysterious and comical costumes, binging on candy and wine, and falling asleep in James’ arms to the screams on the television.

And then we had Aidan and staying in wasn’t as fun anymore. That night was magical, seeing the lights reflected in his joyous eyes, his little fisted hands waving in excitement when strange people in even stranger costumes passed us by.

It was everything I had dreamed.

And more.

Until everything went wrong, and that SUV took from me my reasons for living.

They told me Aidan died on impact.

That he didn’t suffer.

But how could they know that? The didn’t know what his last moments were like. If he felt the pain, the agony as death took hold and drew from him the spark that would have let him continue in this world.

James was not so lucky.

He struggled for days until his heart finally gave out and he, too, slipped into oblivion.

I wish I had followed them.

I was so close, close enough to breathe in that precious green apple scent of my baby’s soft brown locks. Close enough to feel the whisper of his lips on mine as he said “not yet” and my world turned to agony and grief so strong I wish he’d just taken me then and there.

But it wasn’t to be.

The damage to my skull was severe, but survivable.

The broken pelvis and shattered ribs were survivable.

The constant ache of breathing was survivable.

The agony of what could have been was debilitating. But it, too, was survivable.

And here I am.

On the anniversary of the day my family was crudely ripped from me.

Here I am.

Still engaged in conversation with a man I will never wrap myself in again.

Still begging for those featherlight touches that always announced his presence, that pronounced his love for me.

Still wishing that he could be here for his first tottering steps, to see those chubby legs grow big and strong just like his father.

I had hoped I would be taken, too.

For so long I wished for that same oblivion that swept them away.

I still wish it, but I’ve realized that with every thought I give to them, every passing moment of my continued existence breathes life into their memories.

I am what keeps them alive.

And so I sit here, in the cold and the dark, because they would do the same for me.

One day we will be together again.

But until that day I will remember.

I will remember the sly touches of his fingers beneath my shirt.

The declared “I do’s” on that sleeting winter morning in that little church.

The bouncing of my unborn child on my poor, abused bladder.

The misery of childbirth and the absolute adoration that consumed me when his wails pierced the air.

The picture my two guys made as they fell asleep in the living room, both with mouths wide open and drool threatening to escape slack jaws.

I will remember the terrific, the happy, but I will also remember the horrific, the agonizing.

The heartbreaking tears that leaked from his eyes when his sister passed.

The months of torture after the miscarriage.

The dull ache when the doctors told us kids might not be in our future.

We beat the odds at every turn, told the world to step back and let us have our chance. And we did. For a glorious nine months, we had everything we had ever wanted.

I could not have asked for a happier life with the two people I loved most.

So I will live on in spite of their absence, because of their absence.

They would settle for nothing less.

Until we meet again.