Living with Loss

That moon called to me last night. During the first year or two of Wyatt's death, I often sat outside at night, just me and the moon. I would sit there for however long we needed together. I would cry and then somehow feel better after I talked to the moon as if it were Wyatt. Sometimes, I would wake at 2:00 in the morning and go in the back yard and sit under the light of the moon. The moon would peek through the trees as if playing a game with me. I would challenge myself to get a clear view as if we were having a conversation. Last night that moon called me again; I wrapped myself in Wyatt's quilt and sat under its brightness and talked to my boy. It's been a while since I've done that; it's not easy, it takes a lot to open your heart enough to feel the sorrow.  I had to cry. I had to tell him I missed him. After a bit, I came inside and as I went to close the window shutters, I looked out and there was the beautiful moon shining in the window at me. I see y

When we share time with our children, explore life through their eyes and enjoy simple moments, we are blessed with some pretty awesome gifts, both for them and for us.    On this fourth anniversary of Wyatt’s death, we choose to remember his life and all the joy he brought to our world. This world is a better place because he was here.   We are better people because he was our son. We choose to remember his life; forever our beautiful boy, our Little Warrior. The Little Warrior When choosing his name, we always knew our son must have a strong name, for he would be strong, not just in muscle but in will and temperament. His name could not be common nor could it be odd, this name had to describe him, give him the character distinctive to the person we knew he would become. We never really came to a decision and as my belly grew to an enormous size the question of his name was still unanswered.   My projected due date came and went.   Jim’s grandmother, mother and brother were