Damian,
its been awhile since I wrote you last. I've been having a rough time coping with flashbacks of the accident. The last week I swear I've smelled grape koolaid, which was your favorite drink. I miss making you your grape koolaid.
I can't seem to accept the fairness of you being dead now longer than you were alive. Its not fair that you are dead period. Sometimes I feel like acting like a two year old, myself, and throwing a fit...a temper tantrum about it. Sometimes I wish I could be a bit more numb.
I feel guilty about wanting to feel numb, you deserve eternal mourning. You deserve to be here.
You would have been 3 1/2 this month. I often wonder how you would have grown by now. What would you say, do, like? Its not fair that everyone else's children are growing and aging and they get to see them.
I don't know if I can ever "accept" the fact that I'm still alive and you aren't. It will never be "okay" that you are dead, that you died at 20 months of age.
I wonder sometimes if you can see and hear me. If so, do you feel bad about me smiling and playing with your new brother? Do you feel left out? Do you blame me for the accident? Do you feel forgotten? Do you blame me for not being able to save you?
Sometimes I imagine what you would have felt. I try to, I guess, subconciously punish myself for turning my back long enough for you to grab the pan in the kitchen. I spend many sleepless n ights going through it in my head. The pain had to have been horrible.
Then, for the worst part, to punish myself further I imagine the fear you faced being 20 m onths old and going to the urgent care and the hospital. I feel like I betrayed you by taking you to the doctors where they messed up and you died.
I try to figure out what your last thoughts must have been. I'll never know the answers to any of these questions for certain. I think that bothers me the most in some ways. It also really messes me up to know that no matter what I do, I can't turn back time and make it all never happen. I can't bring you back...I can't fix this.
Damnit I miss you. I need you to come home. I need you to be here with me. I need to touch your face and hear you call me "mamum" again. I need to know that you don't blame me for not being able to protect you...
