Have you ever laid in the grass?

Have you ever laid in the grass and looked up to the sky to see an airplane flying overhead? You realize in that moment that there are probably a couple hundred people on that plane and each of them has their own life. Their own jobs, and families, their own places to call home and dreams or aspirations. Their own pains and struggles. Their own adventures. Their own beliefs and worldviews. And you're laying there, just watching them fly over fully aware of their existence, and they couldn't see you if they tried.

Now think the same thing, wondering through a cemetery to visit your two year old son. A cemetery that's been around since the 1800s. Hundreds of lives lived and stories told. Families buried together but years apart. Children days old and grandparents living to 100... you know that existed,

We celebrated Christmas today. Opened presents, had cinnamon rolls and egg casserole, played with our toys cuddled ... all normal family Christmas activities. But all day I was on the verge of tears. I could feel them just under the surface because a part of our family was gone.

So we did the thing that's not a normal Christmas activity. And went to the cemetery to visit the site of our buried 2 year old. Is this how every holiday is going to feel now?

Most of the last two months I've been able to stay distracted. Hosting parties and making the season magical for my girls and even Jeff. Trying to make the season feel bright and shiny when it doesn't. Today, In the quiet, In the moments between, the grief was undeniable. We should have three children snuggling on the couch with us and eating cinnamon rolls. Three to throw wrapping paper across the living room.

I wish this wasn't our story. I wish my daughters could have their brother.

Elliott, we miss you sweet boy. Merry Christmas in heaven.