Today wasn't about being strong. Today was about simply surviving.
Quite simply, I'm often amazed how I can still miss him
I apologize if you get tired of hearing it
because quite honestly,
I get tired of typing it.
I'm under some kind of illusion that
I will miss him less each year.
It's just not the case.
I'm waking up in 4.5 hours to run my annual half marathon
in memory of him.
My heart has been racing all day.
Literally skipping beats, fluttering right out of my chest.
I feel like I've run a marathon every day the last week
with the way my heart has been pounding.
If I was being honest I would admit that I'm quite nervous about my run tomorrow.
It's the first time I've been nervous about the race.
Just because, I feel like I've fought against the storm to be able to race it.
After hurting my feet in August and my quads in February,
I have not been able to prepare.
I'm nervous it's going to be painful.
Because training for it has been painful.
I have babied my legs...
stretched, stretched and then stretched some more
and every run I come away hobbling.
I suppose it's symbolic of this year.
It's been harder than last.
I think it's because I gave myself a mental time line of five years.
That CERTAINLY after five years, I wouldn't hurt as bad.
I think it just hit me like a truck full of boulders that
it will always hurt this bad.
until the day comes I get to see him again.
That little boy did something to this ole heart.
He lit it up like I've never loved before.
Deseret News is doing a story on him, window safety and healing. It was a pleasure to share with them our journey of finding peace. They had us do a photo shoot at his grave. It was so healing. So fantastic to play there with him at his grave.
So much outpouring of love.
I have been blessed so abundantly
with people who
care and are so extremely thoughtful.
Thank you to all of you for the well wishes,
I'm quite frazzled. I am really not very cognitive right now and am not coming up with anything brilliant to say, so I will say this,
Good Night Sweet Baby James.
Six years ago at this moment,
you had already flown to heaven...
I sat in the hospital emergency room
held your hand, kissed your eyes and gave you one last hug
until we meet again.