My son died 3 and a half months ago. I still have moments where I just cannot understand how he can not be here. I don't understand why he isn't with me and I'm overwhelmed by the giant hole that will be a part of the rest of my life. When Rowan was sick I used to try to picture him at an event in the future, happy and healthy. That event was my brothers wedding, which took place yesterday. I spent the days leading up to it trying to stay calm and keep the grief at bay while visiting with family. But the day of, I walked into the chapel and it killed me to know that Rowan missed this. Rowan wasn't going to be in pictures. No little tux. Rowan wasn't sitting with his sister in the pews. No pictures of him with the bride and groom. I wanted him to share that beautiful day with us. I had to excuse myself occasionally to go cry for a bit and get it together. This was supposed to be our big Happily Ever After. I was so happy my brother was getting married and so happy to finally have his fiancé become my official sister. It was hard to balance being so happy and so sad at the same time. I tried to do little things to remind me that even though he wasn't physically there, I was carrying him with me. I tied my wolf print necklace to my bridesmaid bouquet so I could rub it when I got sad or nervous.
Between the ceremony and reception, the DJ played a song called Count on Me by Bruno Mars. We sang that song to Rowan all the time. We listened to it on hard drives to the ICU. We played it at his memorial. I lost it. I had to leave and finally let out some of the grief. After that I was able to relax some and just enjoy the reception. The whole wedding was gorgeous. The bride was breathtaking and my dad did a great job with the ceremony. It was nice to have so much of our family together.
This wedding was the first of several Milestones to come. December 10th is Rowan's day of birth, but I don't even know what to write on my calendar, let alone how I am supposed to even be able to breath in and out that day. Then my birthday is the day after. The idea of celebrating it just seems horrifying. Then Little Bird's birthday, Yule, and Christmas with my parents. He won't be there. He won't ever be there. You hope as time passes, each day will get easier. It doesn't seem to be doing that.