16 months

July 10, 2014.

It’s been 16 months. Today wasn’t as hard of a 10th as I stayed busy at work. I teared up a bit when a song from Luca’s birth playlist came on, and I looked at our family picture.

That one beautiful picture we have, where we are holding and kissing him.

He’s never far from my thoughts. There isn’t a minute of my day where my stream of thinking doesn’t meander back to my son.

But as her arrival approaches, I spend less time doing the rituals I had done everyday, and guilt comes over me for it.

I don’t ever want to feel that far away from him that I don’t include him in my day, or honor him, or talk to him, or send him my love.

I would do all of that, had he lived, so why really, should it change simply because his physical body left?

I struggle with internal dialogue and dilemma as a bereaved parent. And I try, I do, to let it continue to pry me right open, in the hopes I can continue to expand and make the best damn lemonade out of these beautiful bitter lemons life has given me.

But. I settle down at the end of my day, no longer in busy mode. The 10th.

I can’t help but ache.

Over losing Luca, over being cut wide open with the immense loss of my son and life as I thought it was about to be. Being present, understanding now the image of holding Luca in my arms with his toes touching the ocean water for the very first time, is just a daydream. That wasn’t part of his story. It wasn’t part of my story. That, like so many images I had conjured up in my mind, will never happen, with him.

One can’t help to hold onto a daydream now and again.

I know he wasn’t a daydream. I know he existed. I know most of our loved ones are his loved ones.

Today I was reminded when I came home from work, and in our living room, for the first time since we moved last June, were all of his books. I have just touched these books twice since Luca died.

I open them up and read the inscriptions from our friends to our unborn son, and I feel the love all over again.

16 months later. With so much more love on the horizon. With all the books that we hope to read to his sister, staring me in the tear streaked face.

I miss you Luca. Thank you for choosing us to be your mamas. Thank you for blessing us with your sister. Like all your aunts and uncles said- your mamas love you so much.



5 thoughts on “16 months

  1. Dearest Gina and Carla,Aunt Peggy Grossini here,married to your Uncle Teddy Grossini Gina,
    I saw your dad the other Day and he showed and told me the story behind his tat.sorry to say we had no idea as our Family don’t seem to see each other as much as we get older.
    Carla I sat here and have read everything you wrote with tears and a heavy heart and what a beautiful written it was.I just happened to come on it by accident and am so pleased I did.
    I want to wish you both and your Family joy and happiness in your life.I experienced a similar event with a child and must say it warmed my heart,Thank you,hugs

    • Thank you Aunt Peggy for reaching out. I’m sorry you experienced loss as well, and we appreciate your good thoughts and the love you send. I hope to finally meet you at some point, Gina told me about the memories she has of you and her Uncle Teddy.

      • Yes and hope it is not to far out that we can all meet soon.I never got to spend a lot of time with Gina,but don’t but take minute to know she is someone you like right off,as I did.
        You girls keep us posted and we will be checking back on your blog,hugs to all of you
        Aunt peggy

  2. Somehow I found myself here with your words.. your story. I have read & cried & ached with each entry. I have not experienced anywhere near your pain, but as I’ve read I have felt your loss so deeply. I hope in this way I am able to shift some of the burden onto my own heart for just a while. Your strength is beautiful, and both of your children are blessed to have you as their mama. ❤

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