Counting

If you have any friends with infant children I’m sure you have seen these.

The “I am However Many Months Old Blanket”. I have seen it over and over again on Facebook, and my thought is, maybe Grieving Moms need them. Although keeping track of the months and days can be obsessive, sometimes it becomes inevitable. When I write the date on a deposit slip, and all of a sudden I realize why I have been in a funk.

Tomorrow I can circle 9 on that blanket, 9 months since Connor has been gone. Some days it feels like 9 months, other times 9 years or even 9 minutes. It all depends on the day.

Earlier this week Jordan and I were laughing on the phone about him, recounting that he had many great traits, but a good sense of direction was not one of them. Connor had a terrible sense of direction, without his GPS, I’m not sure he could have gotten out of Colrain. I always was afraid I would get a call from him saying, “Mom, I’m lost, the sign says Ohio!” LOL

Tomorrow morning, I will get up, make myself a cup of coffee, and go sit in his room for a bit. I’ll have a conversation with him, albeit one-sided. Tell him how much I miss him, how this counting BS sucks and how I wish he could come back. I will cry into the pillow that still smells like him and embrace the memories that I have that allow me to put one foot in front of the other and head towards month 10.

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