How did three months go by so fast, and at the same time, so agonizingly slow?
Summer is a time when life is thriving and all we've had have been dark clouds floating over our heads. A tiny flame blown out too soon.
First, we learned it was okay to smile and then to laugh. We've been able to appreciate the miracle that is Sadie more and more as each day has passed.
We learned that there is no such thing as closure and that hanging white sheets over a bassinet and crib do not erase the events that led us to today.
We know that grief is out of our hands. It comes in waves and drags back out to sea our tears and pain like grains of sand.
I've had to watch my daughter slowly come to realize that her brother isn't coming home. I've comforted her in the night, when she wakes up in tears asking for her beloved Sawyer.
I have watched my husband stand so strong, going back to work so soon after - only to have the grief sneak up and rest itself on his broad shoulders. I have comforted him when I hear his quiet weeping coming from our bedroom in the darkness of night.
With the bad, surprisingly, comes the good.
Every day we hear a friend tell us of a butterfly or a rainbow, a hawk soaring in the sky or a beautiful sunset and how the moment spoke to them - Sawyer's spirit is everywhere.
I have discovered new friendships that will never die. Women with who I can be so painfully honest. Women that share my pain. Women that have loved and lost - and continue to love in the face of adversity.
Sawyer's time on earth was too brief. That time, however, is out of our hands. Where he left off, we have begun to pick up the pieces of our broken hearts and started our journey down a road dimly lit by the light of hope.
We love you, our sweet angel.