Enter Mr. Sandman

Next Friday will have meant six months have passed since Shalebug died. Six long months. How is it possible that my life can have continued for half of a year and not once have I kissed my boy. Or changed his bum. Or plugged in his feed. Bathed him. Held him. I miss everything. I miss him.

The one thing that still takes me by surprise is how much I still love him. As if he never died. To me, it still feels like he is here and we are only separated. Just waiting to be reunited. Let me tell you something, if I wasn't a Christian before Bug died, I surely would be one now. Because with out the hope, the possibility of reuniting with him, my life is bleak. The pain too overwhelming.

I am feeling marginally better now. Acceptance is slowly fighting it's way into my world. Laughter is easier, loving is better. I am learning to deal a bit better with my raw emotions. But I still welcome sleep. Not for an escape, but rather, because I look forward to seeing my boy in my dreams. There, I can feel him, smell him, taste him. For a few short minutes, he is with me. And all is right with the world. The only down side is how much it hurts to wake up and leave him all over again.

Easter is here. And I will celebrate with great joy. Because it means my boy and I will be together again. Until then, we have a date in my dreams.