A Year Has Past

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It has been over a year since we lost Cohen.  I can’t believe it has been over a year since I touched his sweet face, kissed his chubby little cheek, held his tiny little hand, and smelled his soft skin.  A year since I sang to him and dripped tears onto his cheeks.  A year since my heart was broken and my dreams for my third child were crushed.

I still have days where it feels like I can’t breathe.  That I just can’t handle life.  That I just can’t go on.  Days where the tears keep falling.  Where I feel like I just can’t go on.  Where I feel overwhelmed with the thought of living the rest of my life without seeing Cohen’s sweet little face.  I still have those days but they are not quite as frequent as they used to be.

I cried the other day while I was making dinner.  Cried because I missed having someone clinging to my leg, crying, and begging for attention while I was cooking dinner.  I know that if Cohen were here actually doing that it would be driving me crazy but he’s not and it made me sad to think of what should be.

I still have moments where it really hits me that this happened to me.  That this is not all just some crazy dream.  That I am not watching a movie of someones life, that this is my life.  That I really am living out my worst nightmare and that I am somehow surviving.

I still don’t like going into Cohen’s room.  Even thought the room has changed, all the baby things put away and been painted a different color, it still is hard for me to go in “his” room.  The door to the room is open but I rarely go in.

I still cry at least a little everyday for my littlest man.  A song will come on the radio that will hit me or I’ll be in the shower and I will just think about Cohen and the tears come.

I still ache for him when we do special family things that he should be here for.  On the Fourth of July we went to see fireworks.  I thought this year, the second year without Cohen would be easier.  But it wasn’t.  This year he would have been old enough to actually like the fireworks or be scared of them.  He would have been toddling after his brothers chasing lighting bugs.  He would have been laughing and having fun with his brothers.  This second Fourth of July was not any easier than the first, in fact in some ways it was harder.

I still miss Cohen and always will.  I still think of him every single day.  I still dream of what our life should be like.  I still ache to hold him.  Still miss kissing him goodnight.  Miss watching him grow.  Miss hearing him learn to talk.  Miss hearing him fight with his brothers.  Miss the craziness that our life would be with three boys.

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This entry was posted in Cohen.

2 comments on “A Year Has Past

  1. livycel says:

    I feel so similar to what you are going thru. It is so hard and seems to be getting harder.

    Date: Tue, 23 Jul 2013 00:09:59 +0000 To: livycel@hotmail.com

  2. Olivia says:

    .It will change, and though it never gets “better,” it does “get different.” My oldest daughter was stillborn nearly 7 years ago (I can’t believe it!), and three children later, I still look for her in her siblings: Would she have that trait of her sisters? Would she have this trait of her brother? And when I do recognize physical similarities, it still makes my heart crack in the places that I thought were healed. But that’s the way it should be, and it took me a long time to realize it. What I was never prepared for, and what no one told me would happen, was how I felt the first time I realized I HADN’T thought about what she would be doing at a major event. Later, when it occurred to me that I had “forgotten to remember” her, so to speak, I was crushed, and felt like the most disloyal, terrible mother in the world. Eventually, though, it hit home that our paths had parted ways, and I will always mourn the loss of her companionship along the rest of my life’s journey, but her path is so much more glorious than mine, that she does not regret the things that she is missing. It doesn’t make it easier for me, but it does make it tolerable, and sometimes tolerable is enough. It was good to run into you at the Sweet Pea Picnic. Though I don’t really know you, your blog is fantastic, and I appreciate its raw honesty. You are incredibly brave.

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