For the last seven months I wondered what is it like where you are at night. I don't mean your spirit, but you body. The one I carried and cared for, the one I longed to hold, the one I hugged and kissed. As any mother, when I worry about you in the middle of the night, I just want to open the door to your bedroom and see you sound asleep in your crib. But you are not there, and neither is your crib.
So tonight was the night we went to see you at the cemetery. It was everything and nothing I imagined it to be. It wasn't as dreary as I thought it might be. Instead, it was peaceful. The fog rolling over the hill. So quiet.
Sometimes I imagined that at night, when everyone is gone home, you and your friends come out to play on the grass. In my mind I saw you run around, laughing, smiling, playing with your friends. Just what any other kid would do when their parents are not watching. But you weren't.
It kills me that I have to drive to the cemetery to see you in the middle of the night, just to make sure you are ok. It hurts me that I don't have the guts to correct people when they assume I don't have you, just to avoid the awkwardness and the silly comments. It drives me crazy that you are not with me, that I can't tuck you in at night. Yet, somehow, I put one foot in front of the other every hour of every day, and I carry on. Because I love you, and because I am your mother.
Good night my darling, sleep tight and don't let the ghosts bite.
Love you forever,