I struggle with believing in things I can't see.
Tonight I decided to go look at a couple of websites I hadn't checked in a long time. One was for Allie's family, one for Ben's family. If you've read Mommy Daze for a while you know who they are. If not, they're both babies who died in the last year or so from cancer. Both of their families just had babies, so I wanted to see how they're doing. They're both loving their new babies, missing the old. I was especially torn up by Ben's site, as I always am. He was just a few months older than Izzy and from West Virginia, so his story always affected me deeply. My eyes tear up at the wrongness that such a beautiful child, so full of life, is now gone.
I then hear shuffling and I look up to see Izzy standing before me, in faded dark blue dino pj's showing four inches of ankle and a slice of a round little belly. He's rubbing his eyes against the light, stops, then just looks at me.
"What's wrong, baby?," I ask him. "Do you need to go pee-pee?"
He rubs his eyes again, then just stands there.
"Do you need a drink of water?," I ask.
Rubbing his eyes once again, he says, "Yeah, water."
As I'm getting him his drink, I am overwhelmed at his timing. We walk back to his room, him insisting all the way that, no, he really does not need to pee-pee, he sits his cup onto his low chest of drawers, I smooth the covers back around him, brush his hair off his forehead, I kiss him and whisper that I love him.
There's nothing unusual about this routine. It's one that we do a couple times a week. But it was if he was coming out to comfort me. Or to accentuate how deeply grateful I am to have him, and to have him ragingly healthy and vibrant.
Or perhaps it was just thirst.
No comments:
Post a Comment