To My Son

Dear Oliver,

You are now three years old. Your body is bigger. You’re stronger and capable of lifting  heavy things such as the gallon of milk you carried to the shopping cart today at the store, drawing a crowd of admirers as you used your whole 30 lb body to convey the cargo. You’re smarter than ever, and your vocabulary is increasing exponentially.

For the most part, your life has been good. You’re a happy boy many days. You have an amazing heart, loving things passionately such as your cars, your trains, your best friend Velvet (our cat), and your best friend at school, A.J. You tell me often, sweetly and warmly, that you love me. Sometimes you just look at me and smile. Sometimes you just caress my cheek softly and with love. And you have a sweetness and a compassion for babies. You tenderly love them.

This are things that tear at my heart. This are things that make me believe you are such a strong, warm, sensitive and kind little boy.

And now, there are a few things that I want to make sure that you know. The first is that our lives have been different from those of most of the people you are growing up with. Many things are the same, of course, but many things, and maybe the most important things, are different. You have learned from a very young age about grief, heartache and loss. You are learning about it now, as you live beside me as I still so acutely grieve the loss of our family. You feel your own pain of missing your daddy at times, when you softly tell me that you miss him as you fall asleep each night. He is not there to tuck you in each night; he is not there to celebrate your birthday as a family, he is not there for you to run figure-8's around, in between your mommy and him. It hasn't been “normal” for you as you wonder which of us will pick you up from daycare, as you change bedrooms and homes a couple times each week, as you feel sometimes without a home base. It breaks my heart that you have to do that. Little Man, you are so strong. Stronger than I am at times. You've tackled so much at such a young innocent age.

You have seen your mommy cry many, many more times than most kids ever have to see their mommies cry. And there have been times early on in your life when I have had to leave the room to be alone for a little while. I have done my best to always share my feelings with you and to always let you share your feelings with me. Whenever you are big enough to understand a little bit more, we can talk. All I can do is hope that growing up alongside this period of grief, you will better understand and appreciate all the joy that we share together, and that when, inevitably, you experience losses of your own, you will be secure in the knowledge that you can survive them and still live a joy-filled life even as you grieve. I hope that I will be a good model for that.

Love, Mommy

tender boy

Credit for my letter to Oliver goes to Mandy from Hudson's One Good Thing. I asked for her permission to use and edit her letter to her son and make it my own. You can read her letter here.

You have also had to face a few things that many of your friends at school have not had to face. You have to watch your daddy leave our home and set up shop elsewhere. You have two homes now. You sleep in two different beds each week. You are never with both of your parents at the same time. You get confused as to who is picking you up at daycare. You miss one parent while you are with the other. You have had to celebrate Halloween, Christmas and most importantly, your third birthday with only one parent, or with each parent separately.