I’m writing this on the one year anniversary of Sebastian’s death. He lived 11 minutes short
of a full 15 days. On the day he died, he weighed about 1 lb 4 oz. Sebastian was the most
peaceful being I’ve ever been fortunate enough to know. I miss him every second of every
day. My body physically aches for him.
Time is an interesting concept in the world of grief. This past year has been both the
fastest and slowest of my life. It’s strange the way an hour can seem to stretch across days,
but also be over in the blink of an eye. How every moment is spent living in both the
present, past, and future.
When people suggest I take it one day at a time…well, I assume those people have never
experienced loss this great. I remind myself often of what Sebastian’s doctor said to me
two days after he was born: “Take it moment-by-moment. There will good days. And some
days, only good moments.” This bit of advice has helped tremendously this past year. Truly,
there aren’t many good days. But, there are moments in each day that are absolutely lovely.
Like the times when people who know Sebastian died walk up to me with there babies and
ask if I’d like to hold them. Or when I walk in the living room and my daughter is holding
her brother’s earn and saying “I love you, Bash.”
A year ago, I thought there was no getting better. I was absolutely lost and broken. I
wouldn’t say things are better now, but they’re easier. I am able to live with my grief and
manage all the different aspects of my life. I’ve started a business and returned to school
full-time. Somehow, I remember to feed myself and my living child every day, shower, clean,
breathe deeply. I didn’t think returning to functionality was possible immediately after my
son died, or ever six or eight months after.
I hope at this point next year I am able to manage time better. I’d love to have enough
space in my brain to plan some kind of memorial for Sebastian. But, I won’t beat myself up
if I’m still not there. Because this is all so painful. Terribly freaking painful. And time is not
linear. I’m proud of myself and how far I’ve come during the absolute worst year of my life.