Susan suggested that instead of giving this up, I should just pop in from time to time and offer updates. I can do that. I might not have new thoughts or new things to say every day, or even every other day, but things do come up from time to time. I originally called this blog "Life After SIDS" and part of that is transitioning into a new phase of grief. Finding myself happy more often than not, not crying all the time, and learning to deal with his death in a more constructive way IS part of life after SIDS. So I guess I should focus on that as well.
On my other blog, I posted an essay that I wrote about Toby, his life, and his death. If you want to check it out, go HERE.
Toby's anniversary was on the 21st. Last year, the day came and went. I was surprised at the lack of depression I felt. Other days had felt worse. This year, though, a couple of truly extraordinary things happened.
At around 3:00 am I was laying in bed, watching television. I had it on "mute." The GEORGE LOPEZ show was on. I reached for the remote to turn it up, and just as I did the eldest daughter said, "I miss Tobey."
I thought that was a little strange, so I flipped over to SEX AND THE CITY. Samantha was talking to her new boyfriend about his name and suggesting that he change it to make it something more memorable. "How about Toby?" she suggested.
Two references to Toby, back to back.
How odd, I thought.
Shrugging, I slipped on my road and went downstairs.
When I walked into the kitchen, I was hit with a surprise. There, next to the refrigerator, was a plant leftover from Toby's funeral. In the past three hours, it had bloomed. There were five blossom, one for each of us in our house that night.
The plant had not bloomed since Toby's funeral.
I was thankful that he had been able to send us a message that night.
There were no candles lit for us on his anniversary. The only people who sent me messages were fellow mothers who had also lost children and remembered Toby's day. We didn't do anything special to commemorate the day. But, somehow, he managed to drop in and pay us a little visit. That was enough.
On my other blog, I posted an essay that I wrote about Toby, his life, and his death. If you want to check it out, go HERE.
Toby's anniversary was on the 21st. Last year, the day came and went. I was surprised at the lack of depression I felt. Other days had felt worse. This year, though, a couple of truly extraordinary things happened.
At around 3:00 am I was laying in bed, watching television. I had it on "mute." The GEORGE LOPEZ show was on. I reached for the remote to turn it up, and just as I did the eldest daughter said, "I miss Tobey."
I thought that was a little strange, so I flipped over to SEX AND THE CITY. Samantha was talking to her new boyfriend about his name and suggesting that he change it to make it something more memorable. "How about Toby?" she suggested.
Two references to Toby, back to back.
How odd, I thought.
Shrugging, I slipped on my road and went downstairs.
When I walked into the kitchen, I was hit with a surprise. There, next to the refrigerator, was a plant leftover from Toby's funeral. In the past three hours, it had bloomed. There were five blossom, one for each of us in our house that night.
The plant had not bloomed since Toby's funeral.
I was thankful that he had been able to send us a message that night.
There were no candles lit for us on his anniversary. The only people who sent me messages were fellow mothers who had also lost children and remembered Toby's day. We didn't do anything special to commemorate the day. But, somehow, he managed to drop in and pay us a little visit. That was enough.
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