I've tried my best to look back on all the good times that I had with Erik and all the experiences that I shared with him. He truely was a very blessed child. He got to do things in his 5 short years that most kids never experience. He got to go to places and do things that most grown ups never have the chance to do. We made sure that he got to do those things - never thinking that fateful day would ever happen, but just because we wanted him to have a fun life.
I honestly do have peace knowing that I got 5 wonderful years with Erik, but deep down, a part of me really is sad that I will never get to experience a lot of firsts with my baby boy.
Erik never learned to tie his shoes. He always had on velcro tennis shoes or those dang cowboy boots. At Erik's last visit to the dentist, we were informed that he was about to have his first loose tooth. I never got to keep one of perfect little white teeth. I'll never be able to give my son "the talk". Or be pissed at him for breaking curfew. Or witness his first kiss with some little girl as I'm waiting to pick him up in line at school. I'll never meet his first girlfriend. I'll never sit in awe as I watch my son graduate from high school. I'll never see him throw another baseball or swing another golf club or shoot another jump shot. I'll never get a call from school saying that he got caught skipping school that day. I never even got to see my 5 year old baby accept an award at Award's Day. I'll never be able to sit down with him and apply for different colleges. He'll never be a college graduate.
I'll never be able to sit in a crowded church and watch the look on my son's face as his beautiful bride walks down the aisle. I'll never hold Erik's first born child. There will be no children to carry on our family name.
You see, as a mother, you want certain things for your child. All I wanted for Erik was for him to be happy, healthy, well - rounded and successful at whatever he wanted from his life. I can honestly say that I got to see him achieve all of those qualities at the young age of 5. He was by far the happiest kid on earth. He was beyond healthy - a little skinny, but he was healthy. He was very well - rounded and I made sure that he never failed at anything he attempted. I made sure he understood that it was not ok to just give up. I instilled in him the value of try and try again. I made sure that he knew that I supported him no matter what. We didn't always agree on everything and to be quite honest, we fought like cats and dogs, but that's what made me love him so much more. He was just like me. Stubborn and determined.
I really don't know where I'm going with this note. But I had just been thinking about all these things for a couple of days now and just decided to put them here.
I withdrew from school so that I could grieve my son properly without having to hold back tears whenver I thought of him. I wanted to be able to look at his picture and cry for hours if I needed to. Or just to be able to say his name over and over and over again and just be able to do that. But in the midst of quitting school, I've done the one thing that I always made Erik promise he would never do. I quit. I gave up. I threw in the towel. In some ways, I feel like I have let Erik down. If I would've known that he would have died on November 15, 2009, I would've never went back to school. I would've soaked up every single second I had with him. I would've read him 100 books like the other mothers of kindergarten students were doing. I would've let him stay up 10 more minutes because I wouldn't have needed to start studying as soon as he was in bed. I would've let him have little debbie cakes for breakfast every morning - hell, every meal of the day if that's what he would've wanted. I would've let him wear his cowboy boots to school on PE day, because he could run and play just as well in those as he could in tennis shoes.
There are just so many things that I wish I could change about the past year. There were times that I thought Facebooking was more important than getting in the floor with my own damn kids. I've put Erik on the back burner before so I could reply to a freakin' text message. I hate myself for that. I hate myself for shooing Erik away when he would wake me up at 7 in the morning during the summer. I hate myself for not going swimming with him every single time he jumped in my mom's pool. I hate myself for not just making my marriage work for my kids because those weekends I lost will never be gotten back. I lost so much time with Erik. Hell, who knows, if Kyle and I had not separated that last time, I probably could've kissed my baby good bye or prevented the accident in the first place. I hate myself for that.
I'm sure most of you reading this think that I've jumped off the deep end. Maybe I have. But the one thing I don't need from anybody reading this is to tell me I'm a great mother. I already know that. Since day 1, my kids have came first. My kids define who I am. I live my life because they depend on me. I don't need any of you telling me that I need to talk to a counselor or a psychiatrist or whatever. What I need is my son. Nobody can put things in perspective for me. Nobody can make me understand why God had to take my baby on that Sunday afternoon. I don't care that God needed a very special angel. I need Erik here with me. I need his sweet little arms around my neck. I need to hear his voice again. I need to see the sparkle in his big brown eyes. I need to smell him. I need to touch him and I need to tell him I love him.
Ok. I'm done for tonight. Sorry if I just rambled, but I cried hard enough typing all this out, I can't bring myself to read over it for errors.
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