Saturday, January 20, 2018


Dear Jacob,

We're once again deep into your birthday month - without you. You would turn twelve in a a week and a half. Twelve. An unimaginable number. A number that makes me feel the distance from your last birthday, your tenth birthday. Soon two years since we got to celebrate your big day. I always wanted to live without regrets when it came to you, Jacob. Your tenth birthday was a fantastic celebration of your life that the experts doomed as early as a few months into your life. It was a superhero birthday, so very fitting to the largest superhero I will ever meet in my entire life.

If you know me well, you know I can make decisions quickly. It's a good thing most of the time. That made my agony even larger this time last year. I just couldn't make up my mind what to do with your first birthday in heaven. How could we celebrate and honor you as our hearts were aching? I had a million ideas, and none felt right. It was so important to me that we remembered and honored you in the most perfect way. 

In the end, I got saved. I didn't know what to do, and your kindergarten teacher came to the rescue. She organized the most beautiful celebration for you. Your school memory bench was installed right in time for your birthday, and the entire school sent up balloons to you to celebrate your life. It was such a moment of love, and I was once again taken back by the impact you had on all the kids at your school. They loved you deeply, Jacob.

After the ceremony at your school, your dad and I went skiing for the day. It was a day of Colorado skiing with a clear blue sky and good snow. I felt free at the top of the mountains, free in the sense that my mind could run free, and you found me on the ski slope.

At night, we celebrated you with Sarah's favorite dinner - steak, potato gratin, and of course cake! I have to admit that I gave out a big sigh of relief as your 11th birthday passed. I had had to gear up for grief for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and your birthday. Three long months of celebrations without you.

Christmas was rough again. It will never be the same without you in it. Your death swept away some of the Christmas magic. It will never be quite the same without you in it.

The agony for your birthday has not found me yet. I think I have come more to terms with the fact that you continue to live inside me every second of the day, guiding me through life. It's a powerful force only I know of. I think people might get a glimpse of you as I am standing tall. But my decision making and choices in life are very much guided by all the things you taught me. By you.

What I want more than anything for your birthday is to take a break from the busyness of my life. I want to enjoy a cup of coffee on your memory bench reflecting over you. I want to go skiing, if the weather agrees. I like the idea of flying down the hill. And then there will be cake. Sarah's face lit up when she heard the word cake.

We will find a way to celebrate you for who you will always be.

Sweet Jacob, I love you to the moon and back,


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