Dear Abram _4
Nov 28, 2020 Dear Abram It’s been four years. I never know what to call today. The day you were born, the day you died, the day we held you. It was the hardest day of my life, and yet I’m so grateful for it. Addie and Bria still ask if you are turning four or if you are still a baby. Each time they ponder whether you are still a tiny little love, being cradled and passed around by your great-grandparents, or a 4 year old riding a big wheel and building sandcastles. I wonder too. I wonder all the things I imagined – do you have that blonde hair and straight brow; do you look like your brother; are you quiet like your dad? Do you still hear Bria, and Addie, and Bryce talking to you? I hope that one day I’ll know. Every year of grieving is different. At the beginning, it was so raw. Addie loves Hamilton, and the song “Quiet Uptown” made me cry, cry, cry, when Angelica sings “They are living with the unimaginable” after they lose their son. Even when it’s ...