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IMG_5420A year ago, an old friend shared this lyric with me, “The river is long, it is cold, reaches the body, but not the soul.” I’ve heard this song before, but had never picked up on this particular line and it has stuck with me.

This year has been long. No one tells you how you are suppose to “handle” the death of a child. There are books about “how to” grieve, but there is no book that instructs on how to physically drag yourself out of bed the morning after you have to somehow hand your child over to a funeral home. Or how to inform your 4 year old that as magically as her brother appeared, he is gone. The grief creeps through numbing at times and excruciatingly painful at other times. I think one of my many fears is that this grief has the power to numb not just from time to time, but permanently. Maybe the cold actually can reach the soul.

IMG_5830Ethan and I were talking last night about the power of friendships. He commented on how in awe he was of how quickly my friends dropped everything and came to be by my side. He said they recognized that I was hanging off a cliff and they came to my aid. I have really good friends. My sister, Karen hopped on a plane the second we thought Ezra was getting close to dying. She was here through it all. Every sibling, cousin, sister-in-law, aunt and uncle, friend, neighbor, and stranger that came to the funeral, or sent a heart rock, or wrote us a letter, or an email or comment on Facebook… every single one of you are why my soul is not frozen. You have shared your love and created a safety net for those days that were just too hard to face.

It is snowing today. Exactly one year ago, there was a blizzard. In November, at Ezra’s headstone unveiling, it snowed big, beautiful flakes. The snow is cold, but peaceful. I am thankful for it.

IMG_5152Today is the day I have been dreading. A year ago my son died. My beautiful 8 month 6 day old baby took his last breath. I’m struggling with articulating how this day “feels” for me, but I do know I am so thankful for Ethan and Daisy, and for our wonderfully supportive community. I feel your love today, as I have for the past year. Thank you.

We miss our sweet boy with every inch of our beings, but you help warm our souls.