The summer after William

This post is inspired by a women who documented every day in the month of July, dictating life as it happened, a genuine account of daily thoughts and actions. She called it “Letters to July”.

I thought I'd try it out, so here is my letter to my month of July, a rambling that I thought I’d share.

Dear July,

I love you, July. I don’t want to say “but” after that statement. But, there is. I hate that there is. I was expecting you to bring me incredible happiness, July. There were good times, don’t get me wrong. But a certain kind of happiness, well... it was simply impossible to experience.

We were going to start you off by watching the parade, stocking up on sunscreen, buying a tent for the beach. It was going to be just like last year - only THIS July, we’d have baby William. It was going to be his coming out month. Those golden curls. Everyone would just eat him up. We were suppose to be on the beach tip toeing in the water with him in our arms, holding on tight so he wouldn’t slip from all those soft baby jelly rolls.

He’d be 7 months old. We are accepting the fact he died, but it’s a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes we may just be kidding ourselves.

We’re finding comfort in your sunshine and warm breezes. But - there it is again - all those characteristics of yours, the sun and the warmth - they remind us of some alternate life, one where he survived, one that is perfectly amazing. One where he’d be riding with us through life in his green stroller sporting his little sunglasses. You were good to us, July. But it would be a totally different July if he was here.

I thank you, July. For all the summer days and memories made. We’ll see you next year. Hopefully we’ll have another, happy little reason to soak in your sun. 

xoxo