August 1986

August 1986

There are times, like tonite,
when pain moves back
and lodges itself back into my heart.
As if it never left... as if it belonged there.
As if it had been momentarily lost
and with a huge sigh of relief - it found me again.

It still surprises me - how sharply it feels.
I feel as if I could reach out my arms
and Jacob would be there.
I can smell his smell,
I can feel my hands on him.
I can feel the weight of his body
as I pulled him up to hold him against me.

It's summer time.
And he really isn't here.
My body misses him.
I check on a sleeping Jeremy
and touch him instead.
Five years old and a new haircut today.
The "hair cutter lady" asked him
if he had any brothers or sisters,
and he very matter of factly said
"I used to have a baby brother, but he died".

I had to smile inside
because the reactions
are always interesting to watch.
Invaribly, they look at me
to "check" his story,
and I always pretend I didn't hear.
But inside, I'm saying "please believe him,
it's important to me
that the whole damn thing is believeable
so that someday I'll believe it myself".

My son, whose dead brother is a fact of life...
and me, the mother,
who tries so hard to make it a fact of life...
until a nite like tonite comes along.

Oh Jacob.
Is this almost exquisite pain your way of "being" with me?
Or am I still sick and crazy with grief?
I want to hold you.
I want to be held.
.