Sunday, April 30, 2006
I got back online after we got home this afternoon to find an email from another of our favorite CVRU nurses. Seems Nova's name is still floating around CVRU. I'm absolutely convinced that the nurses really underestimate how much they mean not only to us specifically, but other families too I'm sure. After a few days trying not to ruin everyone else's vacation by sobbing the whole time, it was really so nice to hear that they still talk about him and us. It means so much that he made a difference to them.
I have to make that appointment with Dr. Watts yet... The one where he explains exactly what happened. I didn't think I had any questions, but as time goes on, I realize that I do. I just don't know if I'll be able to hold it together long enough to hear the answers, or if he'll even have the answers I need.
Anyway, I think we'll run over to CVRU and say hi whenever we go to The Sanger Clinic to talk to Dr. Watts.
posted by Erin @
11:58 PM

Friday, April 28, 2006
We're off again for the weekend. Myrtle Beach here we come. Have a good weekend.
posted by Erin @
8:54 AM

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

I got his death certificate in the mail today. Such a cold and impersonal document to mark the passing of such a beautiful soul.
He deserves more, more than a few slots filled in according to governmental protocol, he deserved more than 4 months and 4 days.
It just wasn't enough.
posted by Erin @
11:37 PM

I just got a huge box of these. I sell them through my
grief support site. They're really pretty cute, you put your child's picture where the face goes. I have one of Alexis, and one with Nova's picture in it too.
Normally they sell for $9.95 plus shipping, but I'm running out of room to store them, so I'm marking them down to $7.95 and offering free shipping. All profit goes into the fund to help parents who, like me, lose a child and have trouble paying for the burial.
(Paypal is having issues so
email me if you can't use the button)
posted by Erin @
9:46 AM

Tuesday, April 25, 2006
I never was one to like labels.
When I first found online support groups for parents of children with (and adults who have) Congenital Heart Defects, one of the first things I noticed was that most parents have created a signature that includes their child's particular list of defects, complications, surgeries etc.
~Erin,
Mom to
Nova - PA w/Collaterals & VSD
Alexis - Angel Baby 8/17/01 - 8/29/01 died following OHS for ToF
and Tommy, Kory, Kassi, Brendon, and Terra - all HH
I never really used a signature like this, but if I had it would now have "Angel Baby" beside Nova's name, and his birth and death dates as well. They are like badges for the parents whose children survive, and sort of like those name tags you wear to your High School reunion, so you can identify the people who will "get" your concerns and issues the most readily. The ones with similar tags to your own will comprehend the names of the procedures your child will (or did already) experience. You know that they'll understand the alphabet that identifies your baby's problems, and all the medical jargon that comes along with it.
My alphabet doesn't seem to fit in there anymore - all those HLHS/HRHS's and ToF's and TGA's once seemed like a foreign language. I'd have to look up the abbreviation and study up on how similar or different it was from Nova's heart. Now I understand so much more of it than I ever wanted to. But RIP is a whole other language, one I speak fluently, but still can't really communicate.
What I can say, with absolute certainty, is that I don't
want to wear around a tag that says "~Erin, Mom to 2 angel babies." It's a particularly heavy badge to carry around.
posted by Erin @
8:44 PM

Monday, April 24, 2006
So yes, we made it home, all in one piece. The drive time was as peaceful as I could possibly have asked for - even Terra the Terrible Two Year Old was well behaved. The visit was nice. It's been so long since I've been to Troy to see his family, I guess I forgot what great people they are.
Scott's mother and I seemed to hit it off in a way we never really did before. We never disliked each other, we just never connected. This time we did. I don't know if it's the fact that nearly a decade has passed since we last saw each other, or if it's the fact that we each just lost our youngest son, or maybe it's something else I'm not thinking of, I don't know.
All I know is that Scott's family is a bunch of really wonderful people, and they were all in so much pain. And yet many of them were trying to console Scott and I and say whatever they could to let us know that they cared about Nova's death. I had already decided that it would be rude and presumptuous to expect them to have to bear any part of my grief when they had so much of their own. Scott's mother extended her condolences, and all I could say was, "This isn't about me Connie, you have so much of your own stuff to deal with right now..."
It was a difficult thing, trying not to interject my own grief into theirs. I will admit that I cried through much of the service, and for my own loss as much as for theirs.
And there was so much family, the reception was full of friends and family, and little children and babies. So many babies. It seemed like everyone had a baby. One of them was born on April 3rd, a little girl with a full head of black hair. She's Scott's niece and her name is Alexis, Alexis LeClair, our daughter's name.
(Scott swears that her last name isn't LeClair - that she has the father's last name, but her older sisters wrote "Alexis Marie LeClair" in sidewalk chalk outside their house, so I dunno...)We spent a couple of extra days there. We intended to leave on Friday morning but ended up staying until Sunday afternoon, and I felt as though I held my breath for 4 days. It was not my place to cry in the face of their grief, and I didn't. But it was a rough ride home. All the emotions all mixed up and bubbled over and I cried through Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia and a good part of Virginia. I felt like I'd spent days wearing the various masks that were expected of me (or maybe they were entirely self-inflicted.) I just wanted to sit there in the dark and be as empty as I felt, and watch the lights in distant cities just slide by in silence.
I don't regret handling it that way. I'd have felt terrible if I'd have expected them to support me right now, they barely know me, and never even met Nova - but I won't even try to pretend that it wasn't one of the most difficult things of my life to do. My life still revolves around my son in some ways, and I felt almost guilty for not acknowledging him.
I don't know if I did it "right" but it's how I did it anyway, and I did the best I could.
posted by Erin @
8:01 PM

Tuesday, April 18, 2006
My absence is nothing to be concerned about... I haven't lost my mind, been institutionalized, or decided to let this blog grind to a halt.
On Easter Sunday, my husband's little brother passed away after a long battle with Leukemia. Nova and Alexis now have their Uncle Randy to watch after them.
We'll be making the trip to Troy, NY (12 - 16 hrs, via conversion, van with 5 kids... God help us) for his funeral. We'll be out of town until Friday evening. I doubt I'll have time to do much blogging while we're there, so there probably won't be anything new here until the 21st or 22nd.
posted by Erin @
12:07 PM

Monday, April 17, 2006
cafe' cafe': Attempt to Mark the Death of a Child
posted by Erin @
11:37 PM

This is a huge thank you to Tammi. I needed something to make me smile, and
this did, in a huge way!
posted by Erin @
10:56 AM

Sunday, April 16, 2006
"When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness; instead keep your head up high and gaze at the stars for that is where your broken heart has been sent to heal."
~ Unknown
Surely the stars are images of love.
~ Philip James Bailey
The sad and solemn night
Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
The glorious host of light
Walks the dark hemisphere till she retires;
All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
~ William Cullen Bryant
Now twilight lets her curtain down And pins it with a star.
~ Lord John Campbell
posted by Erin @
11:21 PM

Saturday, April 15, 2006
When I decided to start this Blog, chronicalling the trials and triumphs we'd experience during Nova's life, I had no idea that there were other heart families out there doing the same. I never expected to meet so many wonderful people, or to have so many of them (you) become such a part of my daily life. I have been amazed, repeatedly, by the strength and compassion I've found in all of you.
One of the members of this circle,
Michael, of Wisdom Heart, has recently found out that his daughter Sophia would be going in for surgery. My heart goes out to them. I know it was not the news they'd hoped to hear, and as parents, we all know how frightening it is when our child faces open heart surgery.
I also know that there's nothing I can do to lighten their emotional burden right now.
In March he announced that he'd be walking in the American Heart Association Heart Walk in Kansas City, and was
taking donations to support the AHA. Lately our small circle of Heart Families has amazed me with the amount of generosity that is shown when one of us is having a difficult time. Today, I tried in a small way to return that generosity and made a donation in Nova's name.
I'd like to encourage each of you to do the same, and show Michael, his wife Patty, and their beautiful daughter Sophia, that we're here for them right now.
-------------------------------
I made this post earlier and then later I realized that Michael had made a thank you post, and I was replying to it. See, I made that donation to Michael's cause in Nova's name, because I realized halfway to Walmart, halfway through a mental list of Easter basket fixings, that mentally, I was shopping for 6, but would only be buying for 5. I gave that money to Michael's cause in lieu of Nova's "Easter basket"
When I posted that as a reply, I had to enter that group of letters called a 'word verification strand' and that's where things start to get oddly philosophical, and a little weird.
The word verification strand for my reply was "dxmort" - in doctorese/Latin... Dx means diagnosed, and Mort is the Latin root word for dead. I don't think there was any better way of getting validation for making that donation.
Nova didn't need that basket - he's gone. But other children
do need that money for research, to save other babies' lives. Without it, thousands of mothers will have children born with Congenital Heart Defects, children who, like Nova will be unnecessarily
dxmort.
Go donate, save parents from what Scott and I are going through, save other kids from dying.
posted by Erin @
11:23 PM

I didn't realize until this afternoon that I hadn't yet explained what happened to Nova - how he went from doing so well, to doing so poorly in such a short period of time. Eventually, we'll make an appointment with Dr. Watts so he can answer any final questions we might have. But here's the basics.
What killed Nova was actually an infection. He'd had others, including the yeast infection, but this time it was something far more serious, and turned into a condition called
sepsis. He was gone before we even knew what sort of infection it was, or where it originated, but what matters is that sepsis results in shock, which basically means that the body refuses to pump blood to the extremities in order to keep critical blood flow to the core organs. This causes a major drop in blood pressure, basically, the heart continues to beat, but the blood goes nowhere. Not even to the brain.
Nova was brain dead. We had the choice to either wait for his heart to stop beating on its own, or to unplug the ventilator. Either way,
Nova was already gone, the only organ that
was functioning was his heart. Ironic, isn't it?
We didn't see any point in letting it go on, this false sense of life that really
isn't life. So we spent a little time with him, told him how much we loved him and how proud we were of how hard he'd fought. Then they removed the tubes and IV's and removed the ventilator, and I held him and rocked him until his heart stopped. We stayed with him for a while afterward, I don't really know how long - I just couldn't make myself put him down and leave him, knowing it was the last time I'd see him.
It was hard, but it felt better than making him go on, lifeless, for our own reasons. To do that felt selfish. I take comfort in knowing I was with him when he died. He loved to be held and snuggled close, and he hadn't been able to be held in six weeks. It was just
right that he died in my arms.
posted by Erin @
10:09 PM

Scientists have formed a theory explaining a phenomena I've been seeing lately. It seems that when a star goes supernova and dies, there is a cloud of debris left in the wake of the explosion. Gravity then causes this dust to collect, and a new planet is (or,
can be)formed.
Yup, no surprise to me. I've watched as all of you have gathered and become a new world for me, all because of Nova's death. It's been quite a
stellar thing to experience.
posted by Erin @
12:11 PM

Friday, April 14, 2006
Someone that I "met" fairly recently through another website emailed me today. We never really got
well aquainted because shortly after I joined that site, I found out that Nova had the heart defect, and just stopped going anywhere much online. She and I have been emailing back and forth lately, she's such a sweetheart. Today she asked what I thought of having a star named after Alexis and Nova. I never thought of it before, and I really like the idea. Of course, between that conversation, and that gorgeous full moon out there, I found myself staring at the sky tonight.
The big dipper was right above my house, full of nothing, and pouring it out over my roof. A big sticky scoop of darkness that smelled like baby powder and tasted of memories, and for a minute, just a second really, I wondered if he's eating well.
How he loved his bottles...
posted by Erin @
10:46 PM

Thursday, April 13, 2006
I don't know what to say here any more. I don't want to let Nova's blog go unattended, but I'm not sure what else to add now. Surely his story isn't over, is it? I know that his impact on our world continues. I can't bear to think otherwise. So I'm going to continue to post about the things that prove that his tiny little fingers are still shaping this world in some way.
Today, I got an email from one of Nova's nurses. It brought tears to my eyes, and showed me another way that he left his mark. I'm posting it here, to share it with all of you who became so involved with his story, and with our family.
Erin,
I just visited your website for the first time. I have to tell you that I think you and your family are very special people. When work called to tell me that at that very moment Nova was passing away in your arms, I was at once sad that I couldn't be there and happy that I wasn't. I thought I wouldn't have anything to say to you. I thought how ironic that after you, Scott, and I had spent hours talking (well mostly you and I) that I wouldn't have anything to say. But at the funeral, I did not feel uncomfortable at all talking with you.
Nova's funeral was the first child's funeral I've ever been to and it was very difficult. But I am so glad I came. As nurses guarding over your children, I think it is important to see the whole story. What happens after you all leave CVRU, no matter what the outcome. But it also adds perspective to my life outside of nursing.
I feel very privileged to have been able to share in Nova's life with you. I loved Nova. I loved taking care of Nova. It would be awful to say that some children are not special, but some touch us, as nurses, in ways unexplainable. It is not by chance that you came to have favorite nurses. It is because we felt something special for Nova. People always ask me if I have to remain detached in order to do my job. But I feel just the opposite. I have to be able to become attached to some in order to do my job.
I will never forget Nova, you, or your family. I think that you all are so much more than meets the eye. I read the part of your website that said people offered an ear to listen but you wouldn't know what to say. Well, I don't believe that. You are truly gifted in the way of words. And I want to make sure you know that on any given night of the week, or even the weekend, you can call CVRU and talk to any of us. And you can call me personally as well. My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. And you don't have to have anything earth shattering to say. I promise.
You and your family will be in all my prayers
posted by Erin @
10:32 PM

New posts are down below, this one is going to float awhile so it gets seenThere are so many posts for and about Nova. Songs, poems, thoughts, prayers... So many that I am struggling to keep up with finding them, let alone reading them or replying to them. I want to post a link to each of them, and I know I'll never be able to find them all again. Technorati says there are 9 links from 8 sites, but that is only a fraction of them.
So if you've posted something about Nova and our story, please please
PLEASE email me the link to it, I'd like to do a sort of scrap book, both an online version, and an offline version, to keep with his things.
Also, for those of you (many) generous souls who have made a donation in Nova's name, (If I haven't contacted you personally, I apologize, things have been so hectic - and there are SO many of you! I've just gotten lost totally as to who I've thanked and who I haven't!) please email me your home address or your paypal info, so that I know how I can repay you. I'm afraid most of the paypal donations came in without any snail-mail addresses, and I don't want to miss anyone who needs me to repay them.
MAIL ME!!!And now, I think I'm going to try to catch up on the email - you're all such wonderful friends, and there is MUCH email to be replied to!
posted by Erin @
10:24 PM

Wednesday, April 12, 2006
There's something I should say, but I don't know what. A poem I should write maybe... I don't know. This whole thing has been so full of everything, and I feel so empty despite the wonderful things that have happened.
It is a craving - I remember it... Finding myself in front of the refrigerator, or staring blankly into the cabinet, no idea how long I'd been there, but knowing, again and again, that what I wanted so desperately wasn't in there.
I have been so lucky, so loved, so much a part of some inexplicable miracle, and I'm glad of it. It has been much easier to survive, and will undoubtedly be much easier to bear. But that is not to say that I am not terribly unspeakably empty, broken, and
craving.
I have laughed and smiled more in the last few days than any grieving mother has the right to. I don't regret a moment of it. Nor do I deny that I just cried over the ending bit of LOST because I want my magic island, my miracle cure, my fat and naked baby - wrapped in sand and rocking in a cradle of branches on the beach, backdropped by all the sappy cliches of crashing waves, and the night sky draped behind us like Elvis painted on velvet.
Is it a little crazy to be jealous of fictional characters in a weekly drama? Probably, but I've done very little in the way of defending my sanity over the years, especially the last 5. I know I lost my mind after Alexis died, I don't know if I ever "got it back" so to speak. I think I just managed to become functional, in spite of it all. Now... Well, now I wonder if I haven't completely lost it, maybe I just haven't realized it yet, the insane don't ever
know they're insane, do they?
I have received a load of email, offering to listen if I want to talk. I appreciate them, every one. But what am I supposed to do? Call someone up out of the blue and say, "Ok, I want to talk..." Do I start the conversation with something "Hi! How you doing!?" I mean, what is there to say really? We all understand the futility of words, my call would only serve to make someone else uncomfortable. I understand myself enough to know that I'd never cry, it isn't allowed, I don't do it, I
can't do it, not with an audience. I don't want to talk anyway. Conversation isn't what I want. What I want is for this all to be unreal,
undone, over.
But you see, this isn't something that will ever be over. There is no audible click that signifies the moment when you're done. There isn't a party with confetti and balloons and much rejoicing when you've paid your penance, there is no door prize. Grieving is never
done. It is a journey that seems to have no real destination. Somewhere, some time, I read a saying, one that seemed perfectly valid at the time. It said "Grief is a journey from loss, through pain, to healing."
Now it sounds like the directions that Map gives Dora. Loss, Pain, HEALING! Loss pain, HEALING! Swiper no swiping! Oh maaaaaan... How utterly ridiculous it sounds now. What does "healed" mean exactly?
It is something I once thought I was. Or maybe something I tried to convince myself that I had achieved. Now, it is something I wonder if I'll ever be.
posted by Erin @
11:40 PM

I had briefly mentioned an email I received a few days ago from the mother of a 21 year man who was addicted to drugs. I had been waiting for her permission to post her actual email. I got her reply this morning, and I'm absolutely overjoyed that she consented. I truly feel that each of us has a purpose in life, a reason, a goal to fulfill - to change someone, to touch them, to better them in some way, or to leave them open to some way to better themselves.
I think that this letter may mean more to me than any other I've ever received in my ten years of being online, because it exemplifies the power of the struggle Nova experienced, and how much he has and still is impacting our world.
He was such an amazing little guy. I miss him so very much, but if his passing has saved this woman the same pain I'm feeling over losing
my son, then his life was well lived indeed.
I've changed the son's name, and omitted hers, for the sake of their privacy.
----- Original Message -----
To: erin@poeticacceptance.com
Sent: Monday, April 10, 2006 8:54 AM
Subject: Nova
Hi Erin, I just wanted to thank you for being the kind of Mom you are. Because you shared your abiding love for Nova with us all through your writings on the net, he indeed touched lives in unexpected ways and places. I have to tell you the way Nova's life affected my 21 yr old son's life, because it's nothing short of a miracle.
Jack is a drug addict, pacified these past 8 months on daily methadone doses to curb a 4 year self destruct, hammering every drug imaginable. Of course this beats strolling the streets for just any ole drug to inject, but as you know, it too is an opiate rendering many of the same side effects as any opiate. It's a 'ball and chain' and all the other cliches' used to describe addictions.
I shared your post stories about Nova's daily struggles with Jack. He was humiliated to learn a little baby boy on the East coast, through no choice of his own, had to have some of the same drugs he's abused by choice. John enters a rehab on Good Friday, April 14, miraculously inspired by Nova's suffering and death.
Nova had a voice because of you, Erin and his courage will be heard and respected far beyond those hospital walls if you will please keep writing.
---------------------------------This story was also a part of Nova's eulogy, and will forever be a part of my memory of the miracle that is Nova.
posted by Erin @
11:01 AM

Ang talks to NovaErin posts a memorial (but I can't find the permalink, so scroll.)
Mary and and her husband Juan take a few moments
here and here for Nova
Laura is
touched by Nova too.
Mike commemorates
our friendship, Nova's funeral, and much more.
James writes
a poem or two for Nova.
Nova on the
Women's Self Esteem boards Kriss shows
her support for NovaErika talks
about Nova (and
man have people followed her link!)
Michael's post about
Nova's passingJulia dedicates
this poem to NovaMartin references a
poem in memory of NovaVickie writes
a poem for NovaDrawing on Words posted a
Poem for Nova... A Poem written by
Chelsea for Nova, and more
hereand one that
Shyloh dedicated to Nova.
The Walsh Family breaks
the news and says a prayer.Waterfall posts
Logan's Song for Nova.
Billy helps me say
goodbyeCicero sends
his condolences.
Mandie says
a prayerCarla shares
her thoughts - and they spread to the
comments here.
Nova (and Alexis) makes a cameo on
Blogher.
posted by Erin @
10:24 AM

Tuesday, April 11, 2006
It's been a very long 12 hours since I woke up. I'm tired and a little empty, but I wanted to write down all the names of the funeral attendees.
Scott, myself and the kids. (obviously)
My mother
Sheryl and Jerry (sis and bro in law)
April (my niece)
Noelle (sister)
John (brother)
Trish and Rodney (my best friend/sister and her husband)
Tiffany, Shanda, and Mel (3 of Nova's nurses)
Mika and Gina (Maeghan and Heidi Heart Foundation founders)
Mika's mother whose name escapes me.
Arlen (the preacher)
Garren and Peggy Dean (landlord)
Mr. Trull (funeral director)
Mrs. Deese (Works for Lakeland Memorial)
Shanda, Tiffany and Mel are 3 of my favorite people in the world. Jane is another nurse who I love dearly, sent her thoughts and love - she worked 12 hours last night, and had to work 12 tonight, so she couldn't make it. I think I might call her in a few minutes.
(Ha, I stopped midpost and called her. I adore her, she's wonderful!)It meant so much to me that they came. The nurses were his family for those 6 weeks, and I love them. There were others that I'd hoped could make it... but I'm sure that most of them were either working, or just getting off of work. I know that they were there in spririt.
There were flowers from Eve (Eve, it was gorgeous, seriously honey, beautiful) Trish, Jimmy (Sheryl's boss - another breathtaking arrangement) and The Maeghan and Heidi Heart Foundation. I wish I could save them all forever.
I wish I'd have had a tape recorder to tape the eulogy Arlen gave. He pointed out the meaning of his nickname "Nova" and the scriptures and overall message were really beautiful. He is one of
those people, one who just exudes love and acceptance and faith and an unspoken power that just radiates through you when you're near him.
Mika's sister sent enough food to feed the neighborhood. Seriously. And it
wasn't fried chicken, which is the official comfort food in the south, and boy was I glad! It was spaghetti and salad and garlic bread and 3 deserts and enough sweet tea to drown our sorrows... and it was damn good, let me tell you.
We came home, and my family came with us, and we gorged ourselves and had a lot of chaotic conversation, what with 6 kids in the house. Noelle picked up her daughter on the way over, and she's 3... Terra and Maddie had an absolute blast together. It was nice, and loud, and a little crazy, but all in a nice
family togetherness sort of way.
After the family left, we went to get some balloons. 8 heart shaped ones, one for each of us. We wrote secret notes to Nova on little cards that we tied to the ribbons, and we took them out in the yard and set them free. Yes, I
do know that Nova will never read them, but it gives the kids something tangible to do, something that they can use to say their goodbyes, since we had no viewing and they hadn't seen him in so long.
All the kids' balloons soared - mine and Scott's got tangled in a tree. We refused to go inside until they came loose, so we lit a fire in the firepit and spent some quiet time together, an impromptu campfire night, sans marshmallows. My balloon eventually came free, but Scotts never did, so we took a star shaped balloon from one of the flower arrangements and he did it again. Now that one, it flew forever, and we watched it until it disappeared.
All in all, it was a beautiful day. It wasn't somber and depressing at all. There were a lot of smiles and laughes and love and conversation and hugs. Some tears, sure, but it was more about appreciating the gift of his life than anything else.
I'd have rather the family came for that homecoming party I was planning, but all in all, this was good.
Our digital camera refuses to take outside pictures anymore, it just comes out all white no matter how we set the settings, so we used a regular camera. There are pictures of the casket and flowers, pictures of the balloons, but I have to get them developed tomorrow, and when I do, we'll scan them and share.
posted by Erin @
10:01 PM

Let me say this, and be clear - funerals are not for the dead; they are for the living.
There is a certain arrogance in our humanity that convinces us that the dead are listening to our insignificant words of sympathy and grief, a sadistic need to watch as the casket is lowered into the ground, a selfish desire to take that final opportunity to say the things we didn't, to attempt to assuage our guilt or emphasize our love.
Nova is gone.
The emptiness of my arms is all the convincing I need. He can no longer hear my tears or declarations of love, but for four months and four days he knew that he was loved beyond expression. Every moment he was in my arms, from his first breath, we adored him, and he was comfortable in that knowledge because we showed him.
He isn't looming somewhere above or below us waiting for us to say the things we never did, but should have, he isn't expecting some too-late apology for wrongs we perceive that we have committed against him.
And he is not the empty lifeless form inside a 36" box waiting to be swallowed by the earth. He is not.
He is the magnetic force that has brought together hundreds of people he never met. He is an indescribable energy that changed people's lives, touched people's hearts, brought tears to innumerable eyes. He is the reason I received a note from the mother of a 21 year old man in a state Nova never even heard of - an email to thank me for changing
her son's life by sharing Nova's story.
He is the beautiful face and courageous heart that touched people in ways I can't even explain - he is the stimulus that brought about a generosity of spirit that I have never before experienced.
I will always miss him, I am left missing a part of me that can never be replaced, aching for another moment to hold him, smell him, feel him against me in the quiet of night.
I will also live feeling a sense of pride in what he accomplished in so short a time, blessed by having had the chance to see his beautiful smile and know it was for
me. And I will always feel honored to have carried him inside of me, honored to have given birth to the phenomena that is Nova.
posted by Erin @
12:48 AM

Monday, April 10, 2006
I've been doing a lousy job of keeping up with replying to your comments. I'm sorry. I want to say again though, thank you all so much. So many people I've never met have said that they'll be at the funeral in thought and spirit... I'll be honored to know you're all there, in whatever capacity, physical or mental. I am such a lucky woman to have friends like all of you.
posted by Erin @
9:59 PM
