March, to me, always starts our season of loss.  Since it was only 4 months from Joseph's diagnosis to his death, to me, March 1st (the day we went into the hospital to try to find out what was making Joseph lose weight) feels like I am standing on the top of a massive mountain peak and every day thereafter I feel like I am slowly rolling down the mountainside until I slam flat into its rocky bottom like a lifeless, floppy, numbed form of myself.

I am not sure anyone who hasn't endured the loss of their child to an illness would be able to grasp that analogy.  They may find it overly dramatic or like it is an artful attempt at saying this time of the year is hard.  It is. But that's not hardly the whole of it.  In fact, it is so beyond hard that its almost not hard at all.  There's no real way to capture the spirit of grief that attaches to this type of loss. It's persistent, relentless and plentiful. It's vivid. It gives and it takes. And, it never fails to kick the sh*t out of me when it wants to, although each year I get better and better and hiding that. 

This is the first year since Joseph died that the dates match the days of the week when everything transpired.  He was diagnosed on a Tuesday (March 3) and the world never looked the same again.  Today, Monday, March 2, was the MRI that would eventually lead to his diagnosis. This match-up has never happened before now. It feels like something “big” should happen in response to it…maybe a banner should roll out of somewhere or something, I don’t know…but, instead, its just another sad year. Without him.

He still lives on here. In our family. Inside the walls of this home. He's a regular topic of conversation and he still "owns" many of the toys his siblings play with.  They know him and I know that because I overheard one of them say so.  That's nice.  A proverbial consolation prize for the loss, I suppose.  Joseph would approve if such humor.  His wit was stellar, even at age 2.

And we continue to miss him.  Day in and day out.  Always.  Forever.  He'd be 8 years old this month.  How lucky we are but how much luckier we would've been.  He is so very missed.