It’s been two months since the last time I wrote.

My thirty third birthday, Thanksgiving, and the start of the holiday season–our second without Alexander–have all made their appearances.

December is here again. The ninth of the month is here again.

Seventeen months.

I remember a friend saying to me soon after losing Alexander that the second year of grieving could potentially be harder than the first year. That sentiment was repeated to us by a youth ministry colleague who lost his wife and shared with us how different grief looks two years out from a loss than it does one year out. Well, we are just about halfway into the second year, and I am totally seeing that reality, although I’m not sure if it’s harder or if it’s just different.

Grief looks different at seventeen months than it did last year at five months.

I still think about that sweet boy every single day.

Every.

Single.

Day.

He is part of me. I am his mom. Of course I think about him every day. I wonder every single day about what he would be like today. How would his little personality be developing? Would he want to go visit Santa at the mall or would he be terrified? Would he marvel at the Christmas lights? Every. Single. Day.

We no longer get floods of text messages on the 9th of the month. A select few still make it a point to check in and touch base with us, which means more to me than those people could ever possibly imagine, but for the most part the world spins madly on and people have settled back into their own lives.

And yet, it makes every small gesture that much more meaningful.

A message from my dear college roommate this morning: “Hey there. Just wanted to let you know that, for whatever reason, you, Scott and Alexander have been on my mind today, so I’ve been saying some prayers of encouragement for you.”

A dear friend who is never afraid to say Alexander’s name in my company.

My supervisor at the church who comes over to give me a hug every single month on the fifth and on the ninth.

Aunts and uncles who have included unexpected checks in Christmas cards with a note to make a donation to the charity of our choice in “in loving memory of your son Alexander.”

Those small gestures that are beautiful reminders that our sweet boy is not forgotten. That we are not alone in keeping his memory alive. That he continues to make an impact even in his absence.

Oh, that sweet boy.

I just love him.

And I just miss him.

So. So. Much.

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2 thoughts on “Seventeen Months.

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