18 months without Matteo

Eighteen months. Wow.

We have now officially lived without Matteo longer than he lived with us. Next week, Rocco will blow out his third birthday candles. Matteo will not.

I miss his big brown eyes. I miss snuggling him on the sofa for hours on end. I miss the sound of his raspy, deep voice. I miss his soft curls. I miss his chubby feet. I miss the touch of his skin. I miss watching him ride around the house on his trucks or wanting to play catch. I miss hearing him request to watch "Diego". I miss seeing him chase after Rocco, saying "No Cocco, no!" I miss everything.

Yes, things have changed. Immensely. Yes, in some ways, our lives have moved on. Yes, in some ways I feel frozen in time. Or, perhaps it's that I don't want time to keep moving forward... only because I don't want to forget anything. I feel old.

I hate to admit it to myself, but I've outgrown a sense of hope that once existed. It's a false hope... maybe a way that your subconscious continues to deny a particular situation. For example, for months after Matt died, my heart would skip a beat at the sound of a new text message alert from my phone. Or, if I saw the phone blinking... I would almost hold my breath and hope with all my heart that somehow Matteo was sending me a message. It's almost as if I would anticipate a message from him saying "Hi mommy... I'm ok. I miss you. Love you. This is all a bad dream and I'll be home soon. Tato" I know it sounds completely crazy. And, it is. But, no more. No more false hopes like this. I know he's truly gone. Perhaps a part of me still wishes that magical feeling of hope still existed in one way or another. I don't know.

I remember the disbelief of him being gone forever, to the point of me looking out my front window or standing at the front door looking down the street in anticipation that someone would be arriving soon to drop him back off, safe & sound in my arms. My mind would sort of hope that he was off on a play date... or maybe someone borrowed him for a few days... I knew it wasn't true, but I would hope.

I think Gabby still feels that if we go back to the church where we held Matteo's funeral, she'll see him again. Physically, I mean. His body. That was the last time she "saw" Matteo. And, even then she remember him looking very different to her. Even though she has been to that church several times after the funeral and Matteo wasn't there... she still refers to it as "the church where Matteo is". While she knows Matteo is now a constant angel in our lives, she still thinks and wonders where his physical being is. She is five years old and does not understand yet that we have Matteo's ashes here with us. She is familiar with his urn, but the concept of Matteo's ashes being inside is something she is not yet ready to understand. One day, I gently tried to approach this subject with her. The conversation did not go too far as I felt a need to protect her. The questions and wonder and non-understanding of the subject started surfacing... and I could not bear telling her in detail just how her brother was somehow also here with us, inside this box. I couldn't explain to my five year old that her brother's body was burned into ashes. She is too young to understand that. She is too innocent. She has already witnessed and remembers too many sad events and visuals from the morning we found Matteo dead.

While most of Rocco's trauma surfaced and impacted him for the 2-4 weeks after Matteo died, I can only imagine as he gets older there will be a lot of questions. A lot of wonder. Possibly sadness. For months after Matteo died, I would be sobbing just at the sight of Rocco doing anything alone. Sleeping in his room alone. Playing alone. Eating alone. Bathing with just Gabby. All of it was a like a knife to the heart. It still brings about pain at times. Sometimes tears. But, now I mostly wonder where Matteo would have been in the mix of it all, and what he would be saying or doing, or what he would have looked like.

Perhaps the universe wanted to punctuate our loss and all of these emotions as we crossed this bridge of the 18 month anniversary of Matteo's death. Because on the eve of Matteo's death, we ended up bringing Giuliana to the emergency department at the local children's hospital.

Giuliana was diagnosed with another double ear infection and strep throat on Monday, three days before we're supposed to see an ENT specialist for her ears. Lots of ear infections for this poor little one. Anyway, her ear infections no longer respond well to oral meds so she had to get injections Monday and Tuesday.

This bout of sickness has been especially hard on Giuliana (and mommy!) as she has had a persistent, high fever since Sunday. She isn't eating. She isn't playing. And, she is stuck to mommy like glue. So, when she added diarrhea and vomiting to the mix on Tuesday afternoon... I HAD to bring her to the Emergency Dept.

Gabby had a very difficult time with this. She started crying as Dan and I were leaving with Giuliana. We had to hold her and assure her that nothing was wrong and that Giuliana was going to come home with us. We explained to her that we just wanted another doctor to see Giuliana and make sure we didn't need to give her any other medications, etc.

Thankfully, Maria was home and she was able to assist us with watching the big kids. She was great and made it sort of a fun party night for the kids, and provided constant assurance to a very concerned Gabriella. Unfortunately, Gabby's memory and life experiences have led her to develop a very adult like understanding of mortality, medical situations, sick kids, etc.... and these things can be very stressful on her. It is not very easy to convince her in situations like this that "all will be fine". My heart breaks for her that she has experienced death at such a young age. She does not have the typical innocence of most children her age. And, her fears and concerns are very real... almost adult-like at times.

My biggest and current psychological battle seems to involve both night time and sick kids. I HATE when I have a sick child... it brings me such anxiety. And, when I lay down at night to try and fall asleep... my mind races through any and every possible emergency situation, and thoughts as to how I should react to them. The combination of a sick child at night is both stressful and completely exhausting, as I find it so difficult to sleep. When Dan is traveling, it's accentuated x100.

It's difficult to believe it has been eighteen months. It feels like just yesterday I was holding him.... yet, at times I feel as if I've aged 35 years in eighteen months. Life is just so different for us now in so many ways.

People who have not lost a child will tell me that with time, it gets better. You heal.

People who have lost a child know different. They agree that it doesn't get better with time. It will suck forever and ever. You just learn to live with it better. But the constant feeling of "missing" something... well, it's constant. Each day, not a minute passes without a thought of Matteo.

This thought is ever so present in my mind...

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart." - Helen Keller