Most years I let my son’s due date come and go without mention. We celebrate him on the day he was actually born, as reality is different than what was to have been.
He was due April 30th, 2009 and would have been 8 years old today.
I imagine him playing baseball and Legos. In my heart I believe he was a little more like his older brother than his younger one. Quiet and thoughtful, rather than boisterous and outgoing. I imagine he would have loved books and movies just like his Mama and he would have done well in school, like Daddy.
All I can do is imagine and believe what is in my Mama’s heart about the son I never got to know. I didn’t get to watch him grow and discover the world and what he loves about it. I didn’t get to see the wonder in his eyes as he learned to catch a ball or the joy at discovering he understood what the words on paper meant. I don’t know his favorite color. Maybe he would have loved blue. Or red. I can only guess and pretend to know.
Some days I feel cheated by all I wasn’t allowed to do. Yes, I am grateful for the four beautiful blessings in my other healthy children. I do not take their lives or the moments I have with them for granted. That doesn’t take away from my grief over losing their brother. It doesn’t save my heart from the aching pain of knowing a piece was lost forever.
Today, though, I just miss him. I don’t feel cheated. I feel thankful that I had him to miss at all. I feel blessed that I can look forward to seeing him again one day in Heaven with my Father. I’m not going to spend the day crying; I’m going to go about what I need to do, but I’ll do it with my son on my mind.
I’ll always remember.
He would be eight years old today.
(Featured image is a stock photo.)