It’s hard to believe that it’s been eleven months. Three hundred and thirty five days. Eight thousand thirty six hours.

Time has stood still. Time has marched on. Time has flown by.

It seems unreal that my son should be eleven months old. He should be here in Cleveland with us this weekend for his uncle Nick’s wedding. He should be dressed up in a tiny tuxedo while family and friends take turns keeping him entertained while his daddy fulfills his best man duties and his mama plays the guitar during the ceremony. This weekend should just be so different.

Eleven months.

I’m finding it difficult to come up with words today.

As Alexander’s first birthday approaches, I find my days and weeks full of ups and downs, highs and lows. I laugh and I cry, sometimes within minutes. I stare off into space, daydreaming about my boy and wondering what day-to-day life should be like, and visiting that alternate reality about which I will always wonder… the one where my sweet Alexander is here in my arms. Then, something or someone shakes me back into reality… brings me back home to this reality.

I think about that sweet boy every. single. day

I miss that sweet boy every. single. day.

So, yes. I am still grieving. I am living. I am functioning. I am learning. I am coping.

And in the midst of all of that, I am still grieving.

Somehow, living and grieving are learning how to coexist in my world.

In the past month, I have become keenly aware of secondary losses. I find myself struggling with feeling hurt and angry over things. I continue to reach into this new normal and just try to discover who I am, and who I have become. I try to dissect and figure out where this new me fits into the world and into community and even into youth ministry. It’s definitely a journey, but it’s one that I am walking and working through. Every day. Step by step. Some days forwards and others backwards. Little by little.

Eleven months.

Oh, my sweet boy.

Alexander Scott Haligowski.

You are loved.

You are loved.

You are loved.



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