Otto's month

My sweet girl fell asleep in my arms this evening as we sat under the maple tree in the backyard. A cool summer evening on the blanket on our tiny lawn, we listened to the leaves in the breeze and the hummingbird chirp, the golden sun in pockets between branches. So so sweet. I picked her up and put her to bed for a nap.

We sat under this tree with baby Otto, talking to him in the hot August afternoon, the sun in pockets, I blocked his eyes from its brightness. He got to feel the warm summer air on his skin, the easiness of this time of year. My mom was in the kitchen doing dishes. She fixed us quesadillas to eat while we were out there. She seemed happy. She was able to let it be a happy afternoon, like any family would have. Out on the lawn with our baby. Those days are so monumentous to me. I can't believe I had to let you take a final breath.

And now it's August again. And your birthday is coming close. I can feel it in my body, in my heart. The welling up of love and despair mixed together. I am so proud of you, such a beautiful boy, my son.

August is already about letting go, letting go of summer, the freest and most fun time of the year. August is the end of it, the first hint of things fading. This year has been so cool that my plants are still green and thriving. But we brought you home on such a hot week in 2008 that things were wilting and drying, and it squeezed my heart even more, to see that it seemed the whole world was dying too. Let go of everything. Everything is lost.

We have survived and managed to let things grow again. Plant things, plant seeds, take risks, have another beautiful child. But always, always, there will be August and your birthday and your heaven day. We live in cycles and August comes right around again. I'm glad. I don't want to avoid the grief and the pain, I need them, they are part of us, us as a family. I love to say your name and to read it, I love when people talk about you and know you. I love this month and I fear it but I know how to keep walking, one step, another step, another step.

Just don't be afraid of my crying, my friends. Don't worry if you say something that makes me cry. I need it. I need the sadness of this month. I need the great and terrible memories. Let me talk about it. And tell you the things I remember. Let me fall apart. Because always I get put back together with more softness, more moss and cracks full of shadow that let light in, more understanding.

I miss you, my little boy. I so wish that you were still here, that you didn't die, that i could see you jumping and waving sticks and talking. Your leaving gave me my Luna, my sweetest girl. I love you both so much.