Tonight I lay my son down to sleep and I cried for my mother, a woman who laid her baby boy down to sleep and found him gone forever the next morning.
He was barely older than Matthew and he was my mother’s first born, the one who taught her just how inconceivably intense the love of a parent is for their child.
She found him dead. Crib death they called it then. This baby, my older brother, gone before he had truly lived. Gone before he walked, but not before he smiled. Before he ran, but not before he laughed.
His name was David and he was breathtakingly beautiful.
I think of him often, wondering what he would have been like as a grown man, as my older brother.
I ache for my mother. No, not ache, because that cannot begin to touch what I feel. My heart is shattered for my mother. Young, full of love and joy. With a baby who died in the very next room. That is an unfathomable pain.
You are brave
You are strong.
You are forever changed by your sweet son…by both his life and by his death.
I never take bedtime for granted.
I can’t and I won’t.
I love and admire you, Mom.
You are stronger than you know.