Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Who, how, what, will make this right?

I want Zachary. 

I want to feel his grip tighten around my neck when the hay ride lurches forward, unexpected.  I want to dress him in his first puffer jacket, see him laughing and kicking his feet through falling leaves.  I want to watch him twist and pull an apple from a tree, taste the sweet crisp fruit, right there in the same orchard where his older brother did.  I want to interrupt his naptime, gently tell him we need to walk down the street to retrieve C.T. from school.  I want to see his tired eyes, his crankiness, melt away with the excitement of seeing his brother.  I want to wipe his runny nose, mend his cuts and scrapes.  I want to take him to pick out balloons to release, presents to donate, a cake, in memory of B.W.  I want to bring him with me to care for, and say goodbye to, his dying grandfather. 

Where are the people who prayed?  Where are the people who assured me he was going to be fine?  Where are the people who told me the story of their much-sicker child who survived?  Where are they, damnit?

What do they have to say now, 20 months later? 

I want this Zachary-shaped hole filled.  Unfasten the shackles from my wrists and ankles so that I can go and find my boy.  Release me from this agony.


  1. Gretchen, how heavy my heart feels for you to have suffered a loss twice. How there are so many reminders and triggers everywhere of what should be. For me , it's anything girl related. It's how I should be shopping for tulle skirts, not a headstone. Yes, our children should be with us. Why were others prayers were answered and ours ignored? I hope what the grief counselor told me is true. That the pain from the hole Heidi's death has left will move to a softer less painful spot in my heart with time. I hope it is true of the two holes in your heart for B.W. And Zachary. Until then, one day at a time, one hour, one second broken up by screams for my baby and pleas to wake up from this nightmare. Thank you always for sharing your grief. It makes me feel less crazy. Kim

  2. Nothing will make this right, never completely right at least. The absence of Zachary is forever wrong. And I am so so sorry he is not holding your hand and learning do a million little things with you. I imagine him so well through your words, as i imagine my Paul, getting ready to enjoy the fall. Nothing can make this right, but i think, especially not after the loss of two of your precious babies.
    I am thinking of you and Zachary. xox