How is it that two months have passed? Two months since we held our baby Alexander in our arms. Two months since we said hello and goodbye, and tried so hard to squeeze a lifetime’s worth of “I love you”s into six short hours.
It wasn’t enough. There is no way that six hours could have been enough. It will never be enough.
Today should be different. I can’t even fathom how much our tiny, perfect baby boy would have grown in just these two short months. What would he be like? Would he be squirming while we tried to get some adorable two month pictures to share with our friends on social media?
Instead of all of these could’ve beens and should’ve beens, we have what is: heading out of town on a vacation we never should have been taking but that we need so desperately, choosing songs and scriptures and making plans for our baby’s memorial service, and trying to figure out which way is up after having our whole world turned upside down.
The past two months have been the longest and the shortest of my entire life. The life we lived before Alexander–a life without grief, and without this incomprehensible love–feels like it was an eternity ago. And yet, time has passed in the blink of an eye.
Today, our son Alexander is spending his two month anniversary in heaven with Jesus. I wish it was different. I wish he was here in my arms.
Instead, we are here and he is there. So, we’ll take some time today to think about Alexander, to talk about him, and to pray. There will be some tears, and there is still a heaviness about the day. But our grief is only a sign of the deepest love:
We hope beyond all hope that Alexander’s life will continue to make a difference. That he matters. That he will continue to teach us about love and friendship and community and burden bearing. Find some peace with us in knowing that our two month old baby boy is safe in the arms of Jesus and that we are all one month closer to the next time we get to see him.
So, take some time to think about Alexander today. We will certainly be thinking about him. Say his name. Light a candle or watch the sunset. Do something kind for a friend. Or a stranger. Enjoy the precious moments you have with your heart beating and your lungs filling with air.