Happy Birthday to my wonderful husband. Although things have been rough for Team Colley, I cannot imagine this life without you. I’m so happy to celebrate this day that brought you into the world. It’s definitely a better one with you in it. Thank you for always being my true north. I love you, honey.
Once again, a year has gone by, didn’t I just write this post last week? This past year has brought a lot of changes, and challenges, for our family, but despite some hiccups, your easy going attitude and joyful outlook has made it a great one. You continue to become more independent and your personality shines in everything you do. You have blossomed at preschool, I hope that you are always so excited and curious about school. Your academic skills are astounding to me, how is it possible that you are already reading? Your sense of humor has also bloomed this year. I love how you laugh, giggle and say “That’s so funny, Mom!” You continue to love being outdoors and are happiest when in the water, be it a puddle, pool, or bathtub. Even though you are getting bigger, you still are always ready with a hug and kiss and love nothing more to snuggle up together. There is nothing better than having you reach out and hold my hand, I will remember that feeling forever. Happy Birthday, Joseph William, you are my shining star. Mommy loves you so very much.
I’m four years old today!! I am such a big boy now. This year I started school, learned to read, and I’m learning to swim. My favorite things to do are play with my trains and cars, do puzzles, and build with my Magnatiles and blocks. I love to cook with Mom and fix things with Dad. I still want to be outside ALL THE TIME! I’m so excited to see what this next year brings, I’m ready for anything!
There is a box in my closet that holds a piece of my heart. I cannot open it for it fills me with dread whenever it happens to catch my eye, yet it is cherished and I will never let it go. This one small box contains all the earthly artifacts I have of the twins. Photos that I can’t bear to look at, yet are seared into my heart and brain.There are hospital bracelets, birth certificates, death certificates, and the guest book from their funeral. Tiny foot prints on index cards, rattles that were never held, prayer cards. . . doll-sized clothes that were given to them by the hospital. I hate those clothes, they are stiff and itchy to the touch, reminding me of how unbearably fragile and soft they were. The box is full of the ephemera of heartache, pain, sorrow, grief, joy, hope, and love. Someday, I hope to be able to open this box again, to be able to look at these precious bits without staining them with tears. Today is not the day.
Five years now have gone by. I still visit that bench, but not as often. Your brother tears me away, holding my hand and dragging me into the frenzy of life with an almost 4 year old. But please know, Mary and Christopher, you are still bright, shining stars that guide my way. Mommy loves you.
I sit. I wait. I whisper. I get angry. I get sad. I leave the room. I go back. I’m patient. I’m frustrated. I’m exhausted. I love him. I want to run away screaming. I hold firm. I cave in. I silently scream. I sing. I hold him. I push him away. I count. I read. I cry. I count the minutes. I count the hours. We do not sleep.