Today I laughed for the first time in a while. Not just a little laugh, because I’ve done that on occasion, but an actually belly laugh at something that was just really, really funny. It actually probably wasn’t that funny because it was just random things we were talking about while driving, but it made me laugh. A good, solid laugh. Tom, too. And at first it hurt. And made me feel guilty. How can I be laughing when I lost my little boy a few weeks ago? But it also felt good. And reminded me that I’m human and enjoy laughing. And smiling. And being with my family talking about silly things while we drive.
Because we spent most of the day driving, I didn’t get time for an actual walk. But, I did have some nice moments to ponder while we drove and the babies slept. They’ve done surprisingly very well during all these long drives. They’re such good and special kids. I’m really lucky to be their mom.
I’m nervous to go home tomorrow. I don’t know what I’ll feel. I was telling Tom that I’ve always loved our home. I love being home with our little family. I’ve loved working from home the last few months because I have so much joy there. And I’ve always felt such light and goodness there. But now I don’t know. I don’t know if it will make me sad. I don’t know if it will feel empty without Benny. It could be painful. Or it could be fine. I just don’t know. So much about this situation is unknown. I can see why people sell their homes and move away after losing a loved one, especially so suddenly. Being home will remind me of him. And that he’s not here anymore. And I’m afraid that will make me sad.
But I’m trying to reframe things so home isn’t painful that he’s not there, but special because he was there. Not dark because he’s gone, but full of light because it’s where we shared so many memories. It’s not easy. But I’m trying. We shared so many wonderful days with Benny in our home – nearly every day of his short life. So I’m going to try and think of that. That it’s the home where we brought our angel boy home from the hospital. That it’s the home where he gave us his first smile. That it’s the home where he laughed for the first time. That it’s the home where we cuddled and loved our sweet boy every chance we could. That it’s the home where he was blessed and given his name. That it’s the home that sacredly served as a temple and church meetinghouse for our family during a worldwide pandemic. That it’s the home where his brother and sister played with him. That it’s the home where his mama and daddy thanked the Lord every day for him. That it’s the home where his angel spirit was loved and will continue to be loved. And that’s all pretty special.
I hope it works. I realize it may take some time. I may still be sad, seeing his empty room. Not hearing his happy giggle. Missing his perfect, gummy little grin. But hopefully in time it gets easier. Hopefully in time I can think of the good without being reminded of the bad. I may not know a lot, but I’m pretty sure Benny would want that. He’s such a special boy. I’m really lucky to have been—and to be—his mom, too.