Three month anniversary

Dear Tommy,

Today it's been three months since you left us.  Mamae and I are missing you more now than before.  I think it is because before we didn't really believe that you weren't coming back.  Even now when I watch your videos I feel that you are right here, perhaps just around the corner.  When I read you Goodnight Moon now, I can still feel you sitting on my lap, turning the pages.  And tonight when I saw your pictures I could feel your plump little feet in my hands.  All these vivid memories make it hard to imagine that it will be a while before I get to see you again.

It feels so strange to talk to you in English so I'll switch now so you'll understand me better, ok?  Filho, espero que voce esteja bem e feliz.  Nao se esqueca do papai nem da mamae, ta?  A gente nunca deixa de pensar em voce.

Eu te amo,
Papai

The Sun

One very good friend recently passed us a note on the blog. He is also a parent and we were just touched by his beautiful words. What really impressed us the most is that he was able to express exactly how we have been feeling lately. In fact, we don't think that we would have been able to write as well as he did, so this is what we would like to share today. (In case you want to read it in Portuguese, click HERE. It's the 4th comment on the page.)

"When we meet our significant other and get married, life before marriage feels so distant that we feel like we were already married before we were even born.  Then our children are born and we try to remember how our life was before them.  A life with no crying, diapers, bottles, no rush, tiredness and most importantly without the unconditional love that rips our hearts out every time our child has a fever.  It’s the same love that fills our hearts with joy when we see our children taking tiny, hurried, teetering steps towards us to give us a big hug when we get home from work.  At that point, life before their existence feels secondary, even meaningless.  Our children become the center of the universe. And then when a vacuum suddenly replaces the sun that used to bring us joy, the sun we used to orbit, we are left without a point of reference, we are lost.
At first, it feels like the pain of loss will never pass, but I believe that time will ease the pain.  Not because the love or the memories of Tommy will fade away; on the contrary, they will always be very alive.  I believe that when you think of him in the future your sadness will be replaced by good memories and the joy and honor of spending time with him during his brief journey."

A sign from Tommy

About a week ago I was feeling quite troubled about Tommy.  So I asked Tommy to give me a sign that he was okay.  Something concrete.  Something clear.

The next day we went out to dinner and, as the wait was half an hour, we went to the bookstore across the street to pass the time.  Most bookstores in our neighborhood have closed so this was a rare treat.  As we walked in to the store, we split up, and I walked up to a book table.  The first book I laid eyes on was a white paperback with gold letters.  It was titled "Proof of Heaven".

I picked up the book.  It is the story of a neurosurgeon that went into a coma for 7 days and had a very extended and detailed near death experience (NDE).  What is special about his experience is that his brain was completely shut down during this time.  It's also notable that, as a neurosurgeon, he had previously seen many patients go though NDEs but he wrote them off as figments of the imagination.  So what he experienced was real enough to make him change his position completely and write a book about it.

I'm still reading through the book now, but regardless of my conclusion about the book itself, I feel the sign from Tommy was concrete and clear.   Obrigado filho.

New lights

One thing that brings us peace is visiting and decorating Tommy's grave.  We recently added some solar lights, plants, a banner and a stuffed dog.  I never imagined I would do this but now, just a few weeks later, it's what makes me happiest.  Evidently, doing things for your child never loses its significance.

Over the long weekend we visited everyday, just before sundown.  We bring chairs, blankets, hats and even coffee and tea (there is a Starbuck's across the street).  We sit quietly, and wait for the lights to come on one by one.

Tommy would like the banner.

Tommy would love the lights too!

Bob the labrador