I've been thinking a lot about Thomas today. I think about him every day - sometimes every minute of every day, it seems - but on special days I think of him in a different way. I think about what I've lost in a different way, I guess because I can picture more clearly what I would have been doing on days like these...
I know I would have had a special little Valentine's outfit for him (I would have done this for as long as possible - until, after three or four years, the boy in him realized he didn't want to be dressed up in holiday themed clothes any longer).
We would have made a special trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house to bring them gooey Thomas kisses and their very first Grandma and Grandpa Valentine.
We would have made Daddy his very first Daddy Valentine too, and we would have greeted him at the door with more gooey Thomas kisses and big Thomas hugs.
But the house is quiet and still instead. No Thomas kisses to be had by anyone.
Last Valentine's Day my beloved and I spent the evening at our labour and delivery orientation. People say "what a difference a year makes" about the smallest changes in their lives. But for us, the difference between a year ago and now is a life. A whole little life that came and went.
I wish I could go to sleep and wake up tomorrow to discover this was all a horrible, horrible nightmare. I wish I could wake up tomorrow and find everything just as it should be - a sleepy little boy full of giggles and smiles standing in his crib waiting for me to come and sweep him up into my arms for gooey little kisses and a million soft, warm baby hugs.
I don't understand why Thomas died. I don't understand why we weren't allowed even one kiss. I don't understand anything anymore.