Dear Leo,
A few days after your passing away, I bought myself a pendant that is also an urn. It's a heart-shaped silver pendant with your name engraved on the back. I purchased that because I always want to carry you near my heart. I know it's just a symbol and that, with or without the pendant, you are always in my heart. But the thought of carrying your ashes with me, wherever I go, brings me comfort.
A few days later though, your dad and I thought it would be a good idea to spread your ashes at the Hindu temple in Kauai. We're going there during Thanksgiving. You were supposed to go with us, while in my belly...instead, we're taking your ashes with us, in a little box. I am ok with spreading your ashes there. I know it's a beautiful place. Plus, this temple means a lot to your dad. I do want to keep just a little of you with me. Although your father thinks it's best to let go, he is ok with me putting some of your ashes in the pendant and spreading the rest. I'm wearing the pendant today (the ashes are not in yet). I know it's a little silly, but I love wearing it. I keep touching it and thinking of you. It's like the little hat you wore at the hospital. I have that by my bedside and I bring it to my cheek everyday. I know it makes no sense, but it makes me feel good and a little closer to you.
This past weekend, I had the courage to open the box in which your ashes are stored. We've had it with us for 7 days and I still hadn't touched it. The box is a little big, but inside it, there's a smaller plastic box. I saw the plastic box and thought "wow, your ashes only fill this much?". But I was wrong...inside the box, there's a little plastic bag and in the bag are your ashes. There's really not much. Maybe just a handful of it. That is all that remains of you.
This weekend I spent some time looking at the pictures and videos that your dad took of you. Looking at your pictures doesn't make me cry anymore; in fact I love looking at them. While you were still alive, you had your mouth wide opened, and your fingers near your mouth. This past week, I regretted not telling you that I love you while you were still with us. I told you later, when you had passed...I know how important it is for a newborn to hear his mother's voice, and I didn't even talk to you. I just caressed you and looked at you...but I didn't say a word to you, I didn't say I love you, I didn't say your name. I hope that you know that I love you though, even though I never said it.
I'm still reading the book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart and it's making me feel better. I do feel like crying while reading the stories of other parents, other mothers. But it brings me a strange sense of relief to know to read that others are or were feeling the same way as I am. I typically read on the bus and I enjoy those minutes alone; just me and the book. Last Friday, on my commute to work, I was reading the book and had tears in my eyes. When I reached my office, I had to stop at the entrance and take a moment to cry. It feels good to let the tears come down.
I wish I was allowed to exercise. All I want to do is go on a run, run really fast, push really hard and make my body ache. I'd rather feel the physical pain than the emotional one.
I love you, always.
A few days after your passing away, I bought myself a pendant that is also an urn. It's a heart-shaped silver pendant with your name engraved on the back. I purchased that because I always want to carry you near my heart. I know it's just a symbol and that, with or without the pendant, you are always in my heart. But the thought of carrying your ashes with me, wherever I go, brings me comfort.
A few days later though, your dad and I thought it would be a good idea to spread your ashes at the Hindu temple in Kauai. We're going there during Thanksgiving. You were supposed to go with us, while in my belly...instead, we're taking your ashes with us, in a little box. I am ok with spreading your ashes there. I know it's a beautiful place. Plus, this temple means a lot to your dad. I do want to keep just a little of you with me. Although your father thinks it's best to let go, he is ok with me putting some of your ashes in the pendant and spreading the rest. I'm wearing the pendant today (the ashes are not in yet). I know it's a little silly, but I love wearing it. I keep touching it and thinking of you. It's like the little hat you wore at the hospital. I have that by my bedside and I bring it to my cheek everyday. I know it makes no sense, but it makes me feel good and a little closer to you.This past weekend, I had the courage to open the box in which your ashes are stored. We've had it with us for 7 days and I still hadn't touched it. The box is a little big, but inside it, there's a smaller plastic box. I saw the plastic box and thought "wow, your ashes only fill this much?". But I was wrong...inside the box, there's a little plastic bag and in the bag are your ashes. There's really not much. Maybe just a handful of it. That is all that remains of you.
This weekend I spent some time looking at the pictures and videos that your dad took of you. Looking at your pictures doesn't make me cry anymore; in fact I love looking at them. While you were still alive, you had your mouth wide opened, and your fingers near your mouth. This past week, I regretted not telling you that I love you while you were still with us. I told you later, when you had passed...I know how important it is for a newborn to hear his mother's voice, and I didn't even talk to you. I just caressed you and looked at you...but I didn't say a word to you, I didn't say I love you, I didn't say your name. I hope that you know that I love you though, even though I never said it.
I'm still reading the book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart and it's making me feel better. I do feel like crying while reading the stories of other parents, other mothers. But it brings me a strange sense of relief to know to read that others are or were feeling the same way as I am. I typically read on the bus and I enjoy those minutes alone; just me and the book. Last Friday, on my commute to work, I was reading the book and had tears in my eyes. When I reached my office, I had to stop at the entrance and take a moment to cry. It feels good to let the tears come down.
I wish I was allowed to exercise. All I want to do is go on a run, run really fast, push really hard and make my body ache. I'd rather feel the physical pain than the emotional one.
I love you, always.
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