Of moths and sunsets

I went to visit your grave yesterday Peanut.

It's quiet there. Peaceful; with only the hum of the highway in the background.

I feel the tug to visit you. For two months, I made sure to go every Monday and I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with that.

As I was standing over your resting place, there was a small, white moth that fluttered near. A smile broke out on my face as I imagined it was you, coming to say hello. I watched as it came toward me and just barely touched my leg then flew on. I smiled, tears in my eyes, as I watched you fly away.

Thank you for saying hello.

I don't usually say anything when I visit. I just sit, and watch, and listen. Hoping to hear you or feel the wind blow through your wind chimes. I love how the sun filters through the tall pines and casts a warm glow over you. It's like God is smiling, wishing you a peaceful night.

I miss you baby.

I had, what you might call, an epiphany yesterday. I was looking down at the base of what will hold your headstone; imagining what you look like now. Not in the physical sense, but in the heavenly sense. I was sad, at first, imagining you in the arms of my dead relatives. But then I realized; you are whole now. There are no scars and there is no more pain. There are no more needles and no more beeping machines. You will never have to have another procedure or blood test. You will never need another surgery. God has healed your heart and you are whole.
It sounds silly, but it didn't really hit me till yesterday. I'm happy that you aren't in pain anymore. It was so hard to watch you suffer in silence.

So it's okay, baby, that you had to leave. I know you tried your hardest to heal and stay with us. I'm glad you got to meet your brother and that we had you home for those two, short days.
It's okay. I'm okay.

I miss you though.

Till next time, thinking of you always.