...and I don’t mean Ty. Because that is a question I won't know the answer to for as long as I live. I mean... really… where is he? I believe in a beautiful place but I don’t understand what that means, what it looks like or where he is exactly. None of us do -- no matter how confident we are in our faith.
No, I mean my baby. My Gavin. What the hell just happened? When did he get so tall? How is it that he is finished with kindergarten already? Off to the first grade soon!?! On the first day of school he was such a baby. With his oversized backpack and new sneakers that were one size too big for growing into. Today, it became obvious that my baby is long gone and far away.
He speaks perfectly. That adorable speech delay has vanished completely and he hasn’t asked to watch Paw Patrol in so long I can’t even remember. He watches big kid movies and he thinks Sharknado is hilarious.
Speaking of "hilarious," he uses that word all the time, in perfect context. And he always sounds so grown up.
I am sad about this. I am “mom” not “mommy” anymore, sometimes even Cindy. And as much as I love how our conversations have evolved and I can’t wait to see who he becomes as the years pass by, I feel like my time being a mommy has flown by and so much of that time was robbed from me by stupid cancer.
I can’t ever get that time back. A feeling I know all too well.
But then something catches my attention on the kitchen counter. My little bud vase is filled with the flowers that he still picks for me, most of which are wildflowers that others would deem weeds, and I realize he is still there – my baby – just not in the same way.
I am so grateful that he still sees the flower, not the weed. I hope he never loses that! I am grateful that he still looks for me first when he stubs his toe or scrapes his knee, and that every single time I say "I love you" it is followed by his, "I love you more."
I just love this big little fresh face.