It’s been a year since we lost Ben. He would have been 9 months old. I find it hard not to think about how life would be if he was in it.
He would have an adoring older sister who would give him plenty of attention, love, and lots of kisses.
He would be crawling and using one of the cats as a chew toy.
He would have that adorably adorable drool dripping smile.
He would have irresistible chubby baby legs.
For the longest time I was internalizing the grief. But last week I started thinking about him and just sat where I had been standing and was crying for the longest time.
Even though we were supposed to box these up months ago, his clothes are still in my bottom dresser drawer. His crib bedding and swaddling blankets are still in the office closet.
My head is telling me it’s time to accept it and put away his things.
My heart is telling me it’s not ready.