12:34am

It has taken me a while to come back here and be able to write about the one year anniversary of Noah passing away. I still can’t bring myself to say “he died.” Passing away sounds gentler in my mind, and anything to do with him needs to be gentle.

I anticipated this day for what seemed to be 364 days, but the last 30 were the worst. When we hit the 11 month Angelversary of Noah, I immediately started to stress about the 1 year coming up. How would I feel, where would my emotions take me, would I have flashbacks to that night?

I didn’t anticipate the day to go as it did, and actually it was October 3rd that was the hardest for Rick and I. You see, that is the night it all started, the nightmare that would forever change our lives. It just reached it’s finality when the doctor pronounced Noah’s death at 12:34am on October 4th, 2018. We thought that going out of town would be a good idea, which I believe it was. We didn’t want to be staring at the 4 walls that we stared at for hours that night. I was acutely aware that it didn’t really matter where I was, because the nightmare follows you wherever you go. We were both “aware” of the night, but not really talking about it. I think I mentioned something on the drive out of town about how I was scared of what could be coming, although I didn’t know what it was. As the evening crept on, I felt myself tensing. I noticed the headache that I had since morning was still with me, and I was clenching my teeth so badly all night that I am sure I was just making the headache worse.

As the clock ticked on, minute by minute, I did start to see that evening before my eyes. As I was reliving every single moment of that night, I noticed that it was 12:30am, October 4th. I sat there and the tears started rolling. I grabbed my phone, found Matthew’s name in Messenger, and got a text ready to send. “I love you my boy.” I hit send. By this time, my tears are cascading and I feel like I did the first time I went out after Noah’s death. So exposed, like I was wearing a scarlet letter, everyone noticing me and staring. The moment had come, 12:34am.

Along with the dread about this day coming, was an overwhelming heavy sadness that a year had already gone by. A year of firsts, and more nights than I want to count crying myself to sleep. A memorial service that oozed love for Noah and our family. 364 discussions in my head with my beautiful boy, fundraisers in his name, stickers emblazoned on as many vehicles as we can possibly get them on.

As a parent who has lost a child, the biggest fear you have is that people will forget your child. Life carries on for everyone around us, yet at times we feel stuck. I remember when the memorial was over, and we came home and I was hit with the knowledge that now “it was over.” Our house had been busy and full of people helping and checking up on us, and we were so very grateful. We still are today. If it wasn’t for the people that lifted us up and carried us through this year, I am not sure where we would be. We always told the boys that it is better to have a few amazing friends, than many acquaintances. Through this tragedy, our circle grew.

I have learned much through this year, but the one thing that always comes back to me is that none of us know how much time we have. As a society, we need to remember this. Do all that you can to live and love life. It doesn’t take a lot of money to do this, it just takes human connection, friends and family. So sing at the top of your lungs, dance in the rain, make snapchat videos with your kids, take pictures, lots of pictures. Speak your truth, and be willing to listen to others. Don’t hold grudges and learn to forgive. Last, but certainly not least, make sure that the ones you love, know it. Tell them……..

Every. Single. Day. Because life is short.

I miss you my boy, and I will love you forever. Love mom