I was thinking yesterday evening how unbelievable it is that it’s been one year that Max went to the giant crib in the sky.
A year. That’s 585 million miles that the Earth has traveled since then.
Max has been such a major part of my life this past year. Every day without fail I look at his pictures and kiss them and just marvel at how perfect of a creation he is.
So many people love him and miss him, and it’s my largest hope that he’s somewhere in that celestial cloud looking over us. And I have absolutely no fear of death in me, because that’s my one chance to see my baby boy again. I love him so much, and am glad when other people do too, by doing nice things like decorating his stone.
Visiting his stone, it’s crazy to see how many new graves pop up in BabyLand. As sad as it is, I think all parents of kids there take solace in the hope that somehow each one represents a new friend for their baby. There will always be the “Why us?” and “Why him?” questions, but there’s slight comfort knowing that we’re not alone.
A year. Can’t believe it’s been a year since I would come in to the NICU and talk to my son and he’d find me and look at me right away. Eye to eye. Just two dudes saying “what’s up, man?” One positive I try to keep hold of: that’s how I’ll always remember him. We never had an argument, or a fight, or a disagreement, or a squabble, or a “ugh, why is he crying?” moment. Nothing but pure love when looking at him, and I hope for him looking at me.
Miss you so much, my Maxy boy.