As the summer has come and is quickly fading, I have been trying to avoid looking at the date with each passing day.
With Caleb preparing for Kindergarten next month, and the arrival of our newest (and not yet named) baby coming a few months after that, avoiding the date has not been the easiest of tasks.
And while I have been avoiding the date, today's date hit me like a ton of bricks.
Exactly one month from today, my Joshua would have been 1 year old.
Today marks his 11 month birthday.
I have a few friends on Facebook who have babies that are the same age Joshua should be. Every month, they post pictures, updates of milestones reached, and share the newest sounds or giggles that their precious ones make.
I can't look at them.
Next month, these parents will be posting pictures of their child's first birthday party. Their baby's face and hands covered in cake. Parents smiling and laughing at the mess that they have to clean up.
I can't even begin to think about August 16th.
I want to honor Joshua and remember him on his birthday, but I simply cannot bring myself to even want a celebration for him.
Can you imagine?
A birthday cake?
Family and friends gathered around?
Everyone ready to celebrate his life. Everyone there- but the birthday boy himself.
I can't fake the smiles or the laughter. The pain is too deep and too raw.
How painful. To have a celebration of life, when that life has been gone for 10 months. That life that never got to experience life outside of a hospital.
I can't do it.
Don't get me wrong. I am celebrating his life. I am thankful for the 51 days that he was here. His 51 days of life changed my life forever. But I can't do it. I can't even begin to think about his birthday.