In The Days Since . . .

"How have you been since the 12th? How are you feeling?"

It not like I haven't asked this question to myself a thousand times since Saturday, but when the words rolled out of my mouth it was like I heard them for the first time.

Now I don't know what all you out there believe, and I'm hoping that those who follow my blog don't judge the senses of a grieving mom, but I believe that from the time my little man left his body, his spirit grew within me ten fold. I feel him. I smell him. I hear him. I see him in extraordinary ways.

But since the 12th, I feel his absence. And I'm almost wondering if God gave him a timeline, like a set amount of time that he was allowed to just focus on me and make sure that I was OK. Like he knew that if I was OK, I could emotionally keep our family afloat. But now his year is up and he has to move on.

Not move on completely, but focus on others. Ry has been talking about him in his sleep. Bill has seen many more things that he has felt Grey has put his hand in. And in a way, I pray that Grey can give Bill and the boys the strength that he has given me this past year. But a huge part of me mourns the thought of losing that connection.

I laid in bed just last night and talked to Grey, pleading with him to show me a sign, to let me feel him again. And sure enough, this morning my cardinal flew in front of my truck. A bright red blur in the grey morning sky.

Bill thinks he's just taking a break, that the heart in the balloons was a huge sign for us, that Grey expended all his energy for one big sign. What an awesome sign it was! But I don't think so. I think he now has to spread himself a little thinner, give his heart to more people than just me. And I understand that.

"How have you been since the 12th? How are you feeling?"

I miss him. I really miss him.