I have found myself running through all of my memories of our brief time with our sweet boy. Most of the time, these moments happen to me on the way home in the morning after working a night shift. I guess that this is a improvement, because it wasn't that long ago that being alone on the night shift was just torture. Being alone with myself, I would be racked by the grief and regrets of dreams lost. At this particular point, I am travelling the memory circuit, transported back in time to the memories of the worst period of my life, the illness and death of my baby boy.
Not all of the memories are terrible, some are actually quite pleasant. All of them are laced with sadness.
The past couple of mornings, I have been replaying in my head, one particular memory. It was after we knew that Grey was terminal and his small body was rebelling against him. He was paralyzed and unable to move, when we held him it was like holding a newborn, we had to support his head and he would just melt in your arms, as if he were still a newborn. Nicole and I had my parents over to the house for dinner. We were trying to make sure that everyone spent some time with Greyson. We were still grasping at straws that Greyson might not be dying, that he would be paralyzed, but he would live. Anyway, I was sitting on the same couch that Grey and I always napped on. My Mom was sitting next to me on my left side and my Dad was sitting across the room on the opposite couch with Nicole. The boys were playing together on the XBox and I was holding Greyson on my chest with his face snuggled against me. Grey had lost all control of his head and as a result he always laid his head on my chest or shoulder. He was facing my Mom and she was talking to him. He was smiling and just taking it all in with his big, beautiful eyes. All of a sudden, he made a little cooing sound, which at this point, took a lot of effort and started to scratch at my shoulder, opening and closing his little hand. Just this simple little move took enormous effort for him to do at this point, and I was trying to figure out what Grey wanted. My Mom looked at Grey and asked "Is that your Daddy? Does your Daddy got you?" Greyson sighed a big sigh and scratched at my shoulder again smiling a grand smile. "Yes, Sweetheart, you love your Daddy don't you?" more smiles and sighing. Greyson snuggled against me even closer, as much as he could manage. My eyes were stung by tears, my heart pounding. My boy was making sure that he told his Nonnie how much he loved me.
I can count myself in a very exclusive club. I have experience the truest and purest form of love. The unchanged true and unconditional love of a parent for a seriously ill child. The complete acceptance of someone and the complete devotion of that child to me.
Definitely one of the special "Gifts" that Greyson has given to me.
I miss him.