Hey Archer –
It’s no surprise that I am writing to you again this month. It’s been a hard day already.
This weekend, we got this massive snowstorm. On social media, many families were taking their little ones out to go sledding, make snowmen, or make snow angels; as I looked outside at the snow, it hit me… We never got to do any of that with you. You were too tiny to do that when you were here on Earth.
I see kids that would be around your age now (2.5 years old) and see them outside, and it just reminds me of all that we are missing. I can imagine Daddy taking you sledding and showing you how to make snowballs to throw at me. I imagine showing you how to make a snow angel and you just smiling and thinking it’s the funniest thing. Afterward, we would come inside and have a warm cup of hot cocoa.
While I know you are doing much grander and way more important things in Heaven, I still miss what we could be doing here on Earth. I will always long for that and think about these ‘if you were here’ moments.
In other news, we will open your door over the next week or so. It’s been closed for exactly 21 months today. We closed it the moment you went to Heaven, and we have to open it to prepare for Stryder.
It’s dumb, but I have always imagined that you would be there the moment we open your door. You would be in your bed and smile at us when we walked it, just like when we did after nap or bedtime. Opening your door brings a reality that you are never coming back to Earth.
This is one of the most emotional and, by far, the most challenging things we have had to do since your Celebration of Life. I don’t know how this is going to go. I’m trying to give myself space to be able to (1) pack things up, (2) cry, and (3) remember the happy memories and YOUR life.
Please know that even though we are making changes to your room, you are not forgotten or unloved in any way. We know that if you were here, you would have been excited to move into your big boy room and let your brother have the nursery. Daddy and Mama love you beyond measure or words, and we miss you daily.
Love,
Mama
