There is a cloud of melancholy surrounding my snug little cottage* tonight.
For the last few weeks it has been quietly seeping in through the cracks in the mortar and inadequately sealed windows till it hangs thick in the air like smoke from cookies burning in the oven.
There is something about Christmas that makes you yearn for loved ones. Even though the holidays can try the patience of a saint, if you have those you truly love with you the moments of joy can be so very sweet. When you are separated from those you love it is like there is a missing chunk in those moments of joy where that person is supposed to be. You always wish that they were there with you, celebrating and sharing the joy.
When death is the thing that separates you the pain can be acute.
Christmas is always difficult when you have lost a loved one. Getting through the season is hard enough when you don’t do anything to make it worse on yourself or your family. I did that very thing. In a pretty big way.
I forgot about him.
Forgot about Matthew, my sweet Little Bug.
For the very first time in four years, I didn’t go to the cemetery on a holiday.
While I cannot bring myself to visit his grave site very often, I always take something to him and visit on every holiday. It is my way of loving on him and feeling like my little family is still together in some way. Sometimes family is with me, sometimes they are not; I don’t require anyone else to go with me to the cemetery. Every year, I traipse through the snow and ice and unearth his headstone, lay a wreath or a tree down, sing to him and tell him that I miss him.
OH, how I miss him.
It didn’t happen this year.
What makes me feel worse is that very late on Christmas Eve night I remembered and I thought to myself, “We’ll stop with the family on our way over to Brigitte’s for dinner and games.”
It didn’t happen because I forgot.
I FORGOT.
I forgot because I was happy.
The last two Christmases were spectacularly hard. I was basically numb for the first two years but it caught up to me and struck with a vengeance. One day I will write about them, but today is not that day. Let’s just say that I looked into the face of hell and I am not entirely sure why or how I am still here.
This year was better.
On Christmas Day I was enjoying myself, my family and friends.
It came and went and there he lay, all alone.
Totally forgotten by his momma.
I am six hundred different kinds of suck.
Now that the holiday is over, I can feel the full weight of it and feel terrible. I’m sitting here creating my own little thunderstorm with big, fat tears spattering all over my keyboard and sniffing and honking into a wad of tissues. At times like this, it is like a war in my head and my heart. There is the side that has so much self-hatred and guilt for “Letting this happen” and the side that knows that I loved my son and would give anything to have prevented his death if I could. I would lay down my life for his without even batting an eye.
It’s an exhausting struggle at times. Sometimes the self-loathing wins, sometimes not. More and more over the years the self-loathing gets beaten up and put away. The last four Christmas’s have been hell on earth and I know in my head that I shouldn’t beat myself up for being happy enough to let the pain go for the holiday’s. That Bug wouldn’t want that for anything.
My head knows it.
Try telling that to my heart, somebody.
I feel things deeply. I also hold onto painful things much longer than I should. I know it sounds odd, but it is like letting go of that horrible pain is letting go of HIM. The loss of my Little Bug was so awful, so traumatic, so final. It feels like it SHOULD hurt forever. That each and every day SHOULD SUCK FOREVER AND EVER, AMEN.
It’s been 1,558 days since the worst moment of my life.
I’m tired, people. Tired of the hurt, bitterness and anger.
Worn out from wishing that my life were different.
I feel very alone right now.
Except…I know in my heart I’m not.
I have family that LOVED my little one almost as much as I did. I have the most awesome friends in.the.whole.freaking.world. It takes extraordinary people to hold and cling onto me in the flames of the craziest, most destructive hell imaginable. They are all still here. Unbelievable. My gratitude to everyone in this paragraph is unending and indescribable.
And then there are you lovely people. My bloggity family and friends. The most helpful thing for me is that you are here 24-7 for me to pour out my heart to. I need that. Oh, how I need that. Things like this build and build inside me and having the ability to write my thoughts out here have helped me more than you know.
I have snotted in person to a few kind people who are very understanding. I have poured out my heart on the phone to a wise soul and my sister in name and spirit.
I have had so many email exchanges that have truly warmed my heart and even made me chuckle in sincere appreciation when you said that you hurt so much for me after reading my archives that you had to watch “SuperBad” at 1 am so that you could recover and sleep. (Humor is sometimes the only thing that makes me feel better. She gets that.)
These hugs of comfort in my inbox are so appreciated.**
I have also taken some comfort knowing that there are other people out there like me. Even if I just lurk on their blogs it is a comfort to know that there are people that “Get it”. That seem to mourn in similar ways. One that is particularly wrenching is another blogger who lost her “Little Bug”, too. These people don’t just kindly sympathize. They empathize. They know exactly what it is like to have that kind of fear and loss. To be in this horrible, exclusive club that nobody ever, ever wants to be a member of.
No matter my raging anger and bitterness that I have (OH, how I have it), I am eternally thankful that I have all this love and caring around me. Many days is the only armor that I have against the never ending hurt that seems to go on and on. I am doing so much better than I was and hopefully, more love and happiness will seep in and replace so many of the ugly wounds that I have on my heart.
I know that my son forgives me for forgetting him.
I will have to find some way of forgiving myself for this lapse in memory.
On a bigger scale, I know that one day, one day that is NOT today, I will work on forgiving myself for failing to protect him from things I had no control over.
One day at a time.
*If you can equate a 1918 bungalow built by cowhands in their spare time as a snug little ANYTHING.
**I know there are so many more of you. PLEASE forgive me for not putting everyone on here. My husband is starting to bitch at me to help him clean the house.
Stumble it!
Filed under: 
Loralee, it’s OK that you forgot…it’s OK to think about other things…it’s OK…it’s OK…
Your little Bug knows you love him, remember him, wish he could be with you. And you will be with him again one day.
Continue to make him proud of you by being the best mom you can to his brothers, the best wife you can be to his dad, the best Loralee you can be. He understands… he loves you… believe me… I know…
I know you know, Sharon. That’s why you are there in my links because I know that you get this and totally understand.
Thank you for the words of comfort.
I’m sure if in your shoes I would feel exactly the same.
BUT, from an outside perspective I am sure that he would WANT you to be happy. Maybe he smiled with delight when he watched you with his brothers and Dad really enjoying the holiday. Maybe he felt a bit of peace knowing that you allowed yourself to feel such joy again.
Big Hugs!
That is a really sweet image, Heather. I so hope you are right.
P.S.
Thank you for letting me snot all over you in Phoenix. You saved me on that horrible trip. You and your fabulous sister in law. (Loves to you, Sarah.)
1,558 days is a lot–hugs for each one of those days.
Oh L….I know how you feel.
And it makes me even sadder that there ARE so many out there who do know EXACTLY how we feel.
It makes dealing with those that don’t a little bit easier.
It makes the guilt of going to sleep at night without crying some nights not hurt so much.
And laughing..but we all have to laugh.
We brought home our little one from the funeral home today….his little porcelain urn is sitting there.
Hugs…..
Michelle-Thank you. I need every.single.one.
Crunchy (How horrible is it that I don’t know your first name! I MUST rectify that.)
I am heart is just aching for you right now. These fist days are so raw and terrible.
It warms my heart that you understand about the laughing. It is vital.
You are doing such an amazing job of keeping it together, but please do not feel horrible when you have to drop your load. Because EVERYONE has to go through that.
I wish I could just wrap my arms around you and give you the biggest hug in the world.
I almost don’t want to write a comment because I feel so inadequate here. I am so sorry for all of the gut-wrenching heartache you and so many others have felt after losing such precious and absolutely loved children. I wish there was something I could do for each one of you. Find some words of comfort or even give you real life hugs.
There is a quote I read many years ago which I whole-heartedly believe. Love, not time, heals all wounds. I hope love surrounds you all and that this love helps to heal you.
LB
I’m so sorry. I am new to your blog and I did not know all the history here. :(
I know your little Bug would not want you to be unhappy. Maybe this was his special Christmas gift to his mama…that you would be so happy you would let go for a little while and be so happy that you would forget.
Big hugs to you. I don’t know what else to say, but I know that he understands.
Life does go on, Loralee. Whether we like it to or not. And not only does he understand but he’s not even THERE, in the cemetery. And I know you know that. But you visit him each and every time you think about him during any given day, no matter where you are physically.
Sometimes it would be so much easier to just “pretend” we aren’t a part of this “club”. But then we’d just have the guilt from ignoring our child’s life. Gah. Never ends, does it?
Okay, you.
I’m coming out of “lurkdom” to say something.
I read sooooo many amazing things on this here ‘lil blog, LL. You’re a character, you’re entertaining and your real.
Tonight’s blog is truly real AND inspiring. I know that I have NEVER gone through what you have, with the pain that has surrounded you, but, and you’re going to think I’m crazy, BUT my heart filled a little bit with happiness for you in reading this tonight.
Let me explain, let me explain . . . you love Bug enough to let him go, to know that he is safe and at peace. You love Bug enough to KNOW, in your heart of hearts, that he is nestled safely, sweetly, and peacefully in the bosom of heaven. This is why you “forgot” to go to his grave this year.
And you know what? You’re STILL and amazing woman and an incredible MAMA. You COULD NOT have changed Bug’s future. Nope. No matter how much the Mama Bear inside of you insists you could’ve saved the baby cub . . . you couldn’t. There’s no rhyme nor reason to any of it. It just is, sweetie.
It’s WONDERFUL that you got to be happy and content, with your heart full of joy this year. LET YOURSELF HAVE THIS.
STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP, my sweet. You deserve good things, LL.
xxxooo from LL2
L…my name is Kerry…..nice to meet you!
Lemon:
I have never heard that saying but I absolutely love it. Time is just numbers. Yes, it helps but seriously? There are moments where it seems like I was bursting into the ER five minutes ago.
I barely made it with all the love that I have around me. I don’t know WHAT I would have done without it.
Jamie:
I have a pretty prolific output and I don’t really write about Matthew all that often (Well, comparatively speaking). I am just sincerely grateful for your comments here. I love the thought that my peace of mind could actually be a gift to him. Thank you for that.
Marilyn:
I think that was the very worst thing, that life frigging goes on. It’s true that it is a guilt trip no matter what you do. Sigh. It helps so much to have other momma’s like yourself who have walked this path.
AND AGAIN: I am so happy for YOU and your family that you are going to have a girl! (And very envious of all the pink, girlie things you will finally be able to buy!)
Thingy:
I am so glad you came back. Talking on the phone was so very nice (Which is saying something given the horrible phone anxiety I have!) You will always be Thing Two to my Thing One. I understand everything you said. I bless the day you found me. HUGS, my friend.
KERRY-Thank you so much. I hope to get to know you better and better.
Oh my dear… I had no idea.
I heart you!
First time I’ve visited your blog, sorry you are feeling so bad. I do not belong to that awful club you talked about but oh my gosh I hope you know that you didn’t forget your baby – you forgot the hurt for just a little bit. Doesn’t mean you forgot the love, that will never go away.
I guess beating yourself up sometimes comes with the territory but try not to feel guilty about moving forward and healing. You won’t ever forget for real, not from what other people say. I think that is truly impossible.
Take care of yourself~
I just want to give you some virtual hugs (((HUGS)))
Some days life sucks beyond the telling of it. I’m sorry today is one of those days. Love you and Bug.
Every time you write about your Little Bug, I feel the need to go and hug my own. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you to have to go through your days without him as an energetic satellite. That sort of wound might be one that time can ease but probably never heal – my heart aches for you! I don’t think you forgot your Bug. Going to the cemetery has probably lost importance since you know that he just isn’t there anymore – he’s in Heaven. Your Little Bug doesn’t mark a calendar to visit the cemetery to see you on President’s Day – he is with you, wherever you are, every day. Your Little Bug is a part of your family, a part of your heart. Honor him by allowing yourself to love him everywhere, any day.
Everyone else has had such wonderful things to say… It leaves me speechless.
Matthew wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up – not one little bit.
Know that I’m thinking about you, and would give you a big hug if I could! Consider a virtual one instead.
I think it is wonderful that you forgot. Wonderful that you were enjoying your life and forgot to mourn. Your precious Matthew would want you to be rejoicing, not crying over his loss. (Just my opinion, but if the roles were reversed, wouldn’t you want the same for someone mourning you?) The important thing is that you didn’t “forget” Matthew, you just forgot to be sad for a small moment.
Don’t beat yourself up–I have been through a similar thing, but not quite as hard as what you have been through. Matthew is running, jumping, playing and giggling even as we speak, having a great time with his heavenly father. That is the picture I have in my head.
Love you, LL!
I’m having a hard time posting a comment, mostly because so much of what I want to say has been said already, and more eloquently than how I would have phrased it.
But just know, that as I read your post, my heart cracked yet again. To know of another mother who bears this pain, this burden so intimately, is just so sorrowful. I wish on a thousand angel wings, that no other mother would feel and understand this post the way you and I do.
Thank you for writing so poignantly and articulately about your loss. Because I am still struggling so much with mine, especially at this time of year. Your words help.
Thank you.
(And pleased to meet you, by the way!)
I think not dwelling on it is a sign of your healing and you should acknowledge that, not the guilt. Of course, this is something that is permantly with you and will ALWAYS be with you. He was and is a part of you.
And you are right: he wants nothing more than to see his beloved mama happy…..
I have not experienced what you have. Not even close.
I firmly believe that your little one is not in the ground. He is in heaven, sitting on the lap of God.
Not going to his grave is OK. He is not there. He is happy, and healthy, and whole.
And smiling down on you.
I need to stop typing so I can stop crying.
Love you!
I agree with what everyone else has said, Loralee… I would probably feel bad too (because I just love to make myself feel like the crappiest piece of crap) but it’s good that you were able to set it aside for a moment. You didn’t forget, you just didn’t dwell too much to let it take precedence over the now. He would feel terrible if he thought he was making you sad every Christmas.
I wish I could give you a hug or take away the pain.
love and hugs.
I’m happy for you that you forgot to be sad for a while. I’m sad that your guilt sucked the joy out of it.
Mostly, I just used up lots of tissues reading your post, and then many more, reading the comments.
You are in my heart.
Bridge:
It’s totally ok, Bridgy. We had such a good time at your house on Christmas. The day was totally lovely and I wouldn’t have undone it. I was really happy.
BetteJo:
It’s a pleasure to meet you, BetteJo. Thank you for stopping by and commenting. It is a terribly long process full of stepping forward and then back. I am not sorry that I forgot my pain for a bit, but I just feel bad that I forgot to go by and visit him. I’m trying to be merciful to myself, though. It’s just a tough process.
Kelly~ Mommy and the Marine says:
And they are VERY appreciated.
linny says:
Ah, Linny. You’re the best sister a girl could ask for. You have been my rock so much of the time, you and Nooncy. Love you both so much.
karen:
That is a really good analogy…It will ease but not heal. I am always glad if my experiences can help people appreciate what they have because it can all change in the blink of an eye and you need to value and treasure it. It warms my heart.
Gretchen:
It’s funny how we are much harder on ourselves than we would ever dream of being to other people. I know I will make peace with this eventually…I just needed to really feel sucky about it for a bit. It took awhile because I was staving it off. I have learned, though, that it is much better to just let myself cry and get it out than to keep it inside. It is too destructive at that point. Thanks for the hugs…Even virtual ones are very welcomed.
Julie:
Oh, I hope so. You have no idea. My crises of faith can’t include no god and no heaven. It would break me into a million billion pieces.
Redneck Mommy:
Thank you for the email, Tanis. I appreciate it deeply. You’re in my heart.
Very pleased to meet you, too.
Amber:
I’m just glad that I am to the point that I KNOW that it is a good thing. There is still so much guilt involved, but two years ago that is ALL I would have seen. Letting go for happiness is almost tougher than not having anything to let go for.
Angella:
I am always thankful for the faith of others on my behalf. It gives me a lot of comfort. HUGS my sweet friend.
holli:
I loved how you phrased you self-torturous habit. :D You make me grin.
Oh, I think that most people would feel bad if they swapped places simply because there is so much guilt in parenting. Logically I know that it is a good thing. But the letting go process is such a bitch.
P.S.I am so freaking sorry about your poor tooth. I worry about you and hope you feel better SOON.
witchypoo:
It was nice to just be happy on the day for once, I admit it. Hopefully I can just see it as a good thing and move on. :)
People say ‘don’t beat yourself up…’ and that’s one thing to say, and yes, it’s out of concern and love. But as you know already, some days you just will beat yourself up, and that’s that.
You loathe yourself and second-guess yourself and replay every response, reaction, every inaction, and in the futile wishing that something could have been done differently, you beat yourself up.
Then you cry until your head hurts, and then some softness creeps into your brain and says to you “shhhh, shhhh mama, it is what it is, now shhh,” and then you fall asleep. And you’ll get up the next morning feeling either like yourself again or like some shadow of yourself, that zombie. Either you – yourself or the shadow – are both okay. They are both a part of you now.
So I’ll ammend what people always say: you WILL beat yourself up sometimes. Go ahead and swim in it if you must, break down to the point where you exhaust those emotions and can start over from scratch, from nothing. And that’s okay so long as you keep putting makeup on most days, and keep tickling the other children in your life, and keep seeing beauty in misty fog or melting chocolate or the mischievous grin of your lover.
Because it’s beauty that brings you out of that hole, the one you must fall into sometimes whether you deserve to or not… because you are in this sisterhood of loss and circumstance and shit luck.
This was a beautiful post. I couldn’t have said it better, every word. I love what another commenter said, which has been said to me from time to time: when he sees you smile, it makes him happy. He is there with you even more then than he is when you’re sitting in front of that stone.
He amplifies all the love and happiness that frees you.
you don’t suck. i think i’ve heard it called “finally moving on.”
i believe that even though your little bug had a baby soul, that his soul still lives – in an adult way… (good hell does that make sense???) and his soul wants YOU to be happy.
remembering him is for you. it’s not for him. don’t lose sight of what’s important. he knows you love him. you’ll always have bad days, but you have so many reasons for the GOOD days that you should try to focus on those…in spite of the darkness.
i hope that doesn’t sound wrong. the written word never seems to do the intent justice.
hugs.
hugs kisses cassaroles and sushi.
You’re a strong woman.
Good thing that typing isnt affected by crying. I know I am not capable of speech after reading what you wrote today. I cannot imagine the depths of pain that you have been to in these last few years. I’m sorry that the happiness you felt this week was followed by such sadness again. But I’m glad you had those happy moments.
Huge hugs to you.
All I’m saying is that watching that part where Seth sees Fogel’s McLovin ID for the first time will make almost anyone feel a little bit better.
I’m so happy to have ‘met’ you.
I don’t know what to say. The tears are choking me up too much. ((hugs)) Love to you.
Your baby is not in that grave and though logically you know that he would not have you crying or stopping the celebration to mourn him, I know that the heart tells you otherwise.
The memory of him is at that place, but his very breath is not … it has moved on … he is waiting.
Have faith you precious mommy. I don’t know how you survived it either. I don’t know how I would survive it. But you did – you were meant to. Laugh and live and for God’s sake, love, and one day you’ll hold him again.
I love you.
I am so happy that you forgot.
And here is the part where I pathetically try to relate.
I had a really shitastic thing happen to me 16 years ago. Nothing even remotely ever close to yours, but crappy none-the-less. i used to lock myself in a room every year on the anniversary. And then, later, I would have a party every year to commemorate the event. And now, 16 years later, I still care quietly and privately and I am really proud of myself for that. You would never know, on January 16th, if you met me in person. I know, and I hold onto it for myself, but it’s better and that is good.
Your little man, he knows your love. He has it with him. He’s cool like that.
Every time I read about this, I get tongue-tied, because I couldn’t imagine and I wouldn’t be as brave as you. So forgive me if I have overstepped a bound here, I just really appreciate your words and I can never find my own for you.
Happy New Year! Go, be happy!
Hey, I just noticed on your sideblog that you got “Eat, Pray, Love.” I got it for Christmas and have not been able to put it down. I usually shy away from the Oprah book club thing too, but I’m loving this book. The author has a funny writing style, doesn’t she? I’m trying to resist the urge to run off to Italy right now (just finished the first section.) I’m sure plans to run off to India will be next.
I do not know all the details, but I want to say your Little Bug surely understands, as those who we all have lost that were dear to us. You keep him alive in your memory and heart, that is a wondeful thing.
Loralee,
I have no words of wisdom, but through my tears, I just want to agree with those who have said that it was good that you forgot, even for just a little while, and that your little Bug was certainly smiling down on you during that happiness that you needed and deserve. He’ll always have a place in your heart – that you won’t ever forget. Try not to beat yourself up too much – it doesn’t do you any good. :-)
I am somewhat new to your blog but your emotion is so raw it can not help but strike a cord with everyone. I have not lost a child but my very best friend did. Right now she is in the depths of hell and I am not sure how to help her. I know I can just ‘be there’ but it is human nature to want to ‘help’ (verb…do something!)
Your blog gives me hope. Hope for her; that she can return from her dark place. She does not blog (yet) but I hope to share this with her…someday.
As much as you thanked others, I think we need to thank you. Sharing your feelings in words just makes all of us feel that connection…mothers and women.
sweetsalty kate:
You sweet woman.
I sent you an email, but I wanted to say here that I am wrapping my arms around you.
I understand.
jess:
No, it doesn’t sound wrong. It was awesome, just like you.
Heart you, Jess.
moosh in indy.:
So are you, babe. So are you.
P.S.
I’ll take a homemade coconut cake instead of a casserole, you know… ;)
Carrie:
I know that reading entries like this is hard on people. It’s hard to write, but in the end it helps me on my way more than I can express. Now that I have had a few days I feel a lot better. I am more able to put it in perspective and am just grateful that I had happiness on a holiday. It hasn’t happened in a very long time.
Thank you so much for the love and concern.
Heather B.:
I’m so happy to have met you, too! I could read your writing all day.
And see? You made me chuckle again. I absolutely loved it.
Alicia:
It is ok to not know what to say. I have difficulty knowing what to say to other mothers a lot of the time and I’ve been there. I appreciate the fact that you said anything at all.
HUGS back.
OMSH:
I love you, Heather. I have thought about your friend often and our emails about it. It was a very healing flurry of exchanges for me.
I love the way you put this. It is a delicate area for me…I know he isn’t “There” but you acknowledge that it is very difficult that his body is there.
Thank you so much.
Mr Lady:
“Your little man, he knows your love. He has it with him. He’s cool like that.”
I think this is one of my favorite comments, ever. I love it.
Anniversaries are spectacularly hard on me. Anniversaries just mean a lot to me, good and bad. I am so sorry about whatever it was that happened to you, but I am hoping that I can get to the point that you are at, where I remember it but I can still manage to go about my day.
I’m not there yet. Here’s looking to the future.
Alecia:
I totally shy away from her list and can’t believe that I bought this, but when I saw the title page I HAD to because it made me laugh. I am totally glad that I did. I am trying to convince my husband to run off to Italy with me next year. Sigh…
Jennifer:
Matthew died of SIDS at almost four months old. It happened in September of 2003. It has been a really long recovery for me but I’m getting there. Thank you for your comment. I appreciate it.
pgoodness:
There are so many things about the whole process that don’t do me any good. It’s part of what made it so destructive and horrible-A huge amount of energy was put into things that made me spin my wheels or made it worse.
As a few days have passed I am just glad that I am to this point because I never thought I’d get here.
Amy:
It is comments like this that make whatever qualms or pain I have writing about my son worth it.
I am so very sorry for your friend. I know that she is at hell, I was in that very place. It was very, very bad. It took me a long time to even begin to feel a semblance of the me that existed before Matthew died. I am still not back to where I was, and I don’t know if I ever will be, but this year has brought more healing to me than I thought was possible.
As for you and your role in all of this. This touches and changes your life as well, because it happened to someone so close to you.
You cannot imagine how valuable and critical you are to her and her life. DO NOT discount just “Being there” for her. I know that it feels like you need to be doing something for her but here is another side to the story:
My poor, sweet friends. You can’t know the hell they put up with on this journey with me. They were amazing. I was so lost, crazy and medicated I was out of my mind a lot of the time.
I had so much guilt about it. I deeply appreciated EVERYTHING that people did for me, but it also made me feel bad that I was so much trouble. Then when the full extent of it all hit me I didn’t want them to try and do anything for me,just to not leave was all I needed.
Just hang in there, sweetie. I am so sorry for her and that it happened. If she ever gets to a point that she wants to talk to someone else who has been there I would be happy to.
Darling Girl: I don’t know how it’s possible to recover from something like that. I’ll now be getting the sobs all week as the idea blindsides me.
You know he wasn’t laying alone and forgotten. He’s with loved ones and he wants you to be also. Thank God we can heal. Thank God YOU are healing.
Much love…
Big HUGE hugs, honey. I freakin’ love you.
I always seem to read these sad posts right before bed and then I can’t go to sleep and I end up crying and checking on my boy a couple of times before I fall asleep.
Sorry to hear that, I dont know what you beleive in, but I believe in prayer and I’ll remember you and your family in my prayers…
:)
I have just found your blog and must say it was great reading your post. It was very emotional for me.