Boogers on the Wall

There’s magic in the air this time of year that draws loved ones near. Maybe it’s the cold, maybe it’s the gift giving, or maybe it’s the celebration of a tiny Savior’s birth. But something seems to bring people together.

I love it. And I hate it.

I love visiting with friends and family. I love giving out gifts. And I love thinking of my Savior Jesus Christ who came to Earth to save mankind.

I just hate that no matter how many Christmas parties I attend, no matter how many family members I visit, no matter how many gifts I pass out, there still feels like something is missing. And there always will.

There will always be a tiny baby boy that won’t be part of the festivities. In all of the family togetherness, I find myself missing him in the deepest corners of my heart.

Don’t get me wrong, I love celebrating. I love making crafts and cookies. I love playing games and singing carols. But deep down my heart aches to have ALL of my family together during the holidays.

I heard the song, “One More Day” by Diamond Rio on the radio last week and it just about did me in. That song tears at my heartstrings. Maybe it’s because we only had just one day with our third son Luca. Five hours to be exact.

I always think about what I would do if I had one more day with him. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do. But I know a few things I wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t be here on the Internet and I definitely wouldn’t check my email or Facebook accounts.

I wouldn’t throw in any laundry or mop my kitchen floor. I wouldn’t make my bed or take a trip to the grocery store. All that stuff would have to wait.

I don’t know if I’d invite a bunch of people over to be with us or if I’d stay at home all day just me and my baby. I’d probably sit on my couch all day with him in my arms. I don’t even think I’d put him down while I got dressed or ate lunch. I’d want to hold him every minute and say a million, “I love yous.”

I might let Travis hold him while I play him a song on the piano or flip through hundreds of pictures in our photo albums – showing him all of the people who wished they could have met him.

I’d sing him all the lullabies I didn’t get to sing to him and I’d show him some of my favorite picture books.

I’d take a billion photos. That way I’d be able to remember the wave of his reddish brown hair or the wrinkle of his tiny baby toes.

But then again, one more day would NEVER be long enough. After it was through I’d have to say goodbye and I’d be left empty handed – again.

Grief can be so cruel.

Luckily it’s been three and a half years since his death. My heart has had time to heal a little since we had to tell little Luca goodbye.

I am no longer constantly blinded by my grief. Now it only comes to me in glimpses. Like when we put together our family Christmas card that doesn’t have his picture on it, or we visit Santa Claus with only three of our four boys.  Or when I put decorations next to his small, granite headstone or I hear sentimental songs on the radio.

Thank heavens that tiny Savior was born, otherwise my grief would be all encompassing. I know that because of Jesus Christ’s atonement and resurrection, I will be with my angel baby again.

Maybe one day I’ll be with him at Christmastime.