Thursday, June 9, 2016

One Month

One month. 

It's been one month since your heart beat last. 

It's been one month since we held you in our arms. 

One month since we heard your voice. 

One month since we heard your whoops of joy. 

One month since we've seen you be pulled around on your scooter. 

One month since we had hoped you would get better and come home with us. 

One month since we had to watch you gasp for your last breath. 

One month since one nightmare ended and another began. 

One month since we began a life we never wanted to live. 
One month ago we had to say goodbye to our whole world. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week we cared for Kreed. We took care of his medical needs, food, sleep, activities- everything. One month ago we said goodbye to our adventure buddy, our partner in crime and the epic life we lived. No one should ever EVER have to go through this kind of pain. We go through our days, and so many of them don't feel like our days. Like we are having a day when he's just with Bill giving us some respite. Every time I remember this is forever, the tears fall. I still don't even know what to do. I had the next 50 years planned with him at least, to teach, experience life and give him one hell of a life. That life wasn't supposed to end at 18. I didn't know last summer would be his last summer. Or Christmas. Or birthday. Or meal (which was Five Guys). Or swing. Or jump on the trampoline. Or night time at home with us. 
In the coming weeks I will blog more about what happened so everyone can understand. We are still trying to understand in some ways. When Kreed entered the Children's Hospital Colorado he was already dying. We just didn't know it. There was nothing the hospital could have done or didn't do to help him. It was too late by the time Kreed and I first walked in their ER. Instead, Kreed was given one hell of a three months surrounded by staff who adored him and were willing to do whatever was needed to make him happy. Kreed loved people. He loved having fun. He loved being loved. And I thank Children's for providing that love to Kreed in his final three months. 
Nothing will ever replace the emptiness we feel inside. Kreed's loss was soul crushing. He was our soul child. I don't know how you recover from that. I don't think you do. I think you learn to live with the emptiness and the hole. And not a day will ever go by that I won't think of him or miss him. 
It's been one month since we told him we loved him and he heard us. 

One month feels like too long to be without him. I don't want to know what forever feels like.