"Over the years"

Xavier and Isaiah are four and seven and two of my favorite little humans on the planet.  When I found out I was pregnant I waited to tell them because I was not sure how well they could keep my secret. It's a good thing because Isaiah told everyone... not just when I was there, or people who knew me, honestly anyone who would listen.  I never expected him to be so excited about it, but he was.  Over the months, Xavier would often acknowledge the size of my belly and ask if there was a baby in there.  Yes, and thank you for telling me that my belly is fat (nothing like a little honesty from a four year old).  I asked them what we should name him/her and they had fun picking names, surprisingly neither Elsa nor Darth Vader made the cut.  And from July until December almost daily Xavier or Isaiah or both would ask when the baby was coming.  My response was almost always, "there would be a baby at Christmas."

And since you're reading this blog you know, there was no baby at Christmas.  I remember in the wee hours of the night as I held Enoch, thinking about these two little boys and worrying how they would handle the news.  Of course Xavier and Isaiah's parents handled it well in telling them the sad news about baby Enoch.

Recently these two boys came with me to Enoch's grave, because they had been asking to go.  They asked good questions and tried to understand as well as their little minds could.  As we drove away Isaiah asked if he could bring some legos to the gravesite for Enoch.  His mom said, "Yes, over the years we will come visit Enoch and we can bring him different toys or gifts when we come."  

"Over the years."  The phrase pierced my heart and caused tears to well up.  "Over the years."  I will be coming to the grave for years.  This isn't a phase.  This isn't a season.  This isn't going to be part of my life for a stint of time.  The grief, the missing Enoch, the visiting his grave is going to be the rest of my life.  Quite honestly that thought is overwhelming to me.  I often don't know how I am going to get through the next minutes in this world with the gaping void and relentless pain I feel.  How am I ever going to survive years?  I never said anything in the moment about that phrase.

A few days later I received a text from Isaiah's mom with this picture.  Isaiah built Enoch legos and left them at the grave.  It brought me joy to see his love for Enoch and it brought me sadness that this is only way Isaiah will ever know him.  I had so many hopes that they would grow up playing together.

The lego on the left says Enoch