Twelve days . . . twelve days until the year anniversary of Grey's death. It seems like yesterday that I smelled his sweet breath.
I have said from the very beginning that I have some incredible friends. It has been those friends that have helped to get me through this whole grieving process. They see in me things that I don't even see. They know what I need, even when I don't.
Today I received the coolest gift from a couple of those friends. It is called "Twelve Magical Memories". I was instructed that I couldn't open it until I left school. It took everything I had and I was so proud that I made it to the truck before tearing into it. In the bag was a note, an incredible note, written by "the mean one", and I say that with tons of affection.
Twelve magical memories, given to me for the next twelve days, each linked to a memory of Grey that makes them smile. Unbelievable! The love for Grey, for me, put into this gift, it left me speechless, in tears, happy tears.
For the next twelve days I'll share these gifts, these memories, with you.
The first gift . . . cinnamon applesauce, his favorite, commonly found all over his face. Grey ate cinnamon applesauce with every meal. For breakfast, if his oatmeal didn't have cinnamon applesauce in it, he'd let me know by pounding his hand on his highchair. It was the last thing he ate.
Cinnamon applesauce . . . when I smell it, I can see him; the joy in his eyes, the smile on his face, mouth wide open like a little bird.
It seems like years since I smelled his sweet breath.