To My Luke, On Your Birthday...

Oh, my sweet boy.  Happy Birthday!!  

I remember writing last year's birthday letter to you.  You were just in the first weeks of what was an extremely long summer in the hospital.  We knew the cards were stacked against us that we would be able to get you well, but we were up to the fight.  As I wrote your letter, I remember being almost overcome with fear that I wouldn't have you with me for your third birthday.  And here we are...physically apart for your third birthday and every birthday after.  But I hope you're with me.  I hope you're reading this letter over my shoulder, and seeing the tears that fall as I write it.  Tears of the deepest kind of sorrow born of the deepest kind of love.

Son, I have dreaded this day for weeks.  Is that terrible of me?  I promised you last year that I would cherish the day you were born to me forever, and I do!!  But I have found over the months since you passed that I have survived by closing my heart to as much feeling as possible.  I have gotten very good at ignoring the pain and the longing, and just doing what needs to be done in a day.  But there are some times that no matter how I try, I cannot ignore this reality.  Your birthday is one of those days, and I knew weeks ago that it would be.  In my mind, I know where you are and what you are doing.  And I know that all is as it should be, and how it was always meant to be.  And maybe, if I'm as good a person as I hope I am, that knowledge owns a tiny portion of my heart.  But most of my hearts aches beyond description, screaming to me that it isn't right that we only blew out two tiny candles.  And both of those candles were lit in the shadow of your cancer.  There is a dark part of my soul that I can't seem to eradicate that shouts to me that I deserved more.  I brought you into this world to raise you, not to bury you.  I'm angry that the rest of these birthday letters will be devoid of a picture of us together.  I have tried to live my life in such a way that our Heavenly Father would spare me this pain, and I can't help but feel a bit betrayed.

I hope you can forgive me, Luke.  Please forgive me for not living up to your legacy!  I'm having such a hard time smiling through the pain.  I thought I had more faith, more fortitude.  We all did so well not shrinking through the trial of your illness, and even right after your passing.  But I fear that during this intensification period, I am shrinking.  I'm so tired, and it's all so hard.  However, even as I write that (and mean it), I know I won't surrender.  It's harder to feel than it used to be, but I still know my Savior lives and loves me.  I know, somewhere in my soul, that our relationship will continue to grow during this separation.  And I know, because I've seen it before me in the briefest of visions, that you and I will be reunited and I can remember in the smallest way the feeling of intense pride and joy that accompanied that vision of you.  The grown you.  I can almost imagine how handsome you look standing behind me while I write.  You look so much like your Dad. :)

In anticipation of this day, I made it clear to everyone that I wanted to be left alone today.  I barely know how to handle my own feelings, much less deal with everyone else's feeling and their sympathy.  But something happened this morning that I didn't anticipate.  Upon checking Facebook, I was greeted by so many posts from people telling the world that it was your birthday.  Thanking you for how your changed their lives with your smile.  I don't know how everyone remembered...I haven't said anything on social media.  You changed everything when you were born to me, Luke.  The whole world changed.  

The day of your birth is so vivid in my memory today.  More so than the other kids.  I remember the surprise when my water broke three days earlier than your scheduled section.  You were always determined to be your own man. :)  I remember those days in the hospital after you were born, just you, me, and your Daddy.  I will always remember the first time I could walk to the bathroom on my own.  You were sleeping in your Dad's arms on the couch.  There was something profound about that moment for me.  I have always thought it was because it was then that I realized you looked so very much like your Dad.  But remembering that moment today, it seems more important than that.  It's funny...for as much as I feel like I am unable to feel anything because of your death, I know I have had more profound, intense, and obvious communication from the Spirit because of your life.  

I could write forever, Son!  Writing this letter has been one of the most real conversations I've had with you.  I know you can't always be with me.  I know you are doing a great work.  But I hope you are near me as often as you can be.  I hope that you know how much I love you!!  That I am so proud of you!!  That I miss you...I miss your smile, I miss your cheeks, I miss your hands, I miss your smell.  But most of all, I miss your eyes.  Your wise, beautiful, big, brown eyes.  Even as I attempt to draw this letter to a close, I feel us separating again and it breaks my heart.

I love you, Luke! Happy Birthday, my sweet boy!!

Love,

Mom