One month ago today

One month ago today, Sully died. I replay that day in my mind. I thought about it all day yesterday since it was a Sunday, the day of the week it happened. I think about how the morning played out, so unassuming. I look back at the pictures of us getting packed up for our trip to church and think about how we had no idea what that night would bring.

But that morning was lovely with its premature spring warmth. We snuggled Sully into the car seat and all five us packed into our car. It felt so good to take him somewhere, to all be in the car together. And at church, we sat on the very back pew. I held Sully the entire time and felt his warmth in my arms and the
softened sunshine through the stained glass wash over both of us. Afterwards, I showed off my beautiful boy, holding him and letting this family of faith admire how exquisite he was. Sully had been baptized in our hospital room the night he was born and this day felt like his introduction to God’s people as the “newest non-communing member” of our church.

There was a baptism yesterday at church as well. One month later, a dear friend’s little girl became the newest non-communing member. I felt joy as I shared in witnessing this baptism but how could I not also ache? Has it really been one month? Is he really gone forever? Of course, of course he is gone; of course time keeps marching on. I remember my Sully, child of the covenant, even as we recognize this sweet little girl as a child of that covenant.

Lately I have been wishing that we would turn up surprisingly pregnant. I think through this longing. I rationalize it away. It would be so foolish right now. I still carry the physical weight of my pregnancy with Sully. We still carry the emotional weight, too. I think through 9 long months of pregnancy and don’t really want to go through that again. So, why this irrational longing? I wonder if I believe somewhere that another baby could make the ache go away, could fill up the emptiness inside. I remind myself that no one will ever replace Sully. I see how what I’m really longing for is that Sully would have been well, that he would have taken his place in our family for a lifetime. So here I am. One month later. The six days come to an end, again. I am grieving. I am inconsistent and irrational. I am not the person I was before. I am undependable and don’t know how long that will last. I’m trying to be gentle with myself, to tend this gaping wound. I think at times I have changed for the better but then, even on this morning of all mornings, I have snapped at my daughter. Yes Sully has changed me but I do still appear to be human. In fact, maybe Sully has made me even more human. That sticks out to me from church yesterday, the Nicene Creed, that Jesus “was made man” and that “He suffered.” I don’t think I could love a Savior that did not know my grief right now.