I come across a lot of two-year olds. Maybe it's just that the age of two is more prominent in my mind, since Amelia would be almost two-and-a-half. Still, they are everywhere: at the playground, in a grocery store, and in the news.
The news... I just read a story about a boy, a few months older than Amelia, who is dying. Another girl Amelia's age recently succumbed to cancer. Other ones died in car crashes, accidents... FUCK!!!
I can't stand it. The realisation that these parents are joining me now in missing their kids, now two but next year three, then four, five and so on: It will never end. I can't stop it. My heart just breaks for them. My heart breaks for all of us. And as the years go by, there will be more and more of us in this club of parents missing their kids...
I used to be jealous of the people whose children got to live, even a little bit. They got so much more than I ever did with Amelia, just as I got so much more than those who lost their kids before full term... Still, I can't imagine what parents who lose their two-year olds go through.
The reality is scary, we have no control over our lives, and being a bereaved parent makes it impossible to pretend otherwise.
Sorry, no happy note to end this post today. Although as I'm sitting here, typing, a humming bird came by my window. I've never seen her come this late in the day (it's almost 8pm here), she usually comes in the mornings. So, I guess Amelia was here, with me, as I wrote this. And I love her.