I saw Gabe nearly die so many times that it still doesn't feel real that he is gone.

Unpacking some boxes that arrived from Boston today, I found more of this things, little pants and shirts and stuffed animals... And I still feel like putting it in his drawer.. He still has a drawer.

I found the drawing I did of Gabe in the coffee shop in Boston... and I remember that day I thought we were going to lose him, but we didn't. But I needed him there, so I drew him there.

"He is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and it's not about his face, but the life force I can see in him. It's the smile and the pure promise of everything he has to offer. Like he's saying, 'Here I am world, are you ready for so much passion and beauty and goodness and love and every other word that should be in the dictionary under the word life?' Except this boy is dead, and the unnaturalness of it makes me want to pull my hair out with Tate and Narnie and Fitz and Jude's grief all combined. It makes me want to yell at the God that I wish I didn't believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, 'You greedy God. Give him back. I needed him here."

It is a quote I found yesterday... But it felt so true. Of course, I don't think God is greedy, nor do I blame him for our loss of Gabe... But I do believe that he is the God of miracles, and I wish we could have kept our miracle just a little longer, to be quite honest.

But the miracle was what happened when we were 8 week pregnant and told that there was no hope for our little 'dot' of a baby to grow. And then at birth when they said his heart couldn't squeeze well enough to live through even one surgery.

So we were given a miracle, time and time again.

It must be selfish of me to wish so badly to have that miracle longer, when we weren't suppose to meet Gabe at all.

There is something in me that still wants to fight, fists out, for Gabe. To prove he was worth it, to prove to someone, EVERYONE how precious his life was and how much value he had. But it doesn't really matter what anyone thinks, because we know.

We know by the emptiness where his presence used to be, by the hopes that are gone, the dreams of what he would be like that we will never see until heaven.

Gabe was unlike any infant I have ever known.

Gabe was more than any odds could define. He was beautiful, the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. His eyes were so unique, so deep and so willfully drawing you in... it was almost unnatural how beautiful he was sometimes.

He was sweet, but so determined and so gentle, but so strong.

Sweetly he would play with his toys, determined he would roll up on his side and spin himself in circles while chewing on his thumbs.

He defined love for us, rawly.

Raw love. Like when you stop processing what love is SUPPOSED to look like and how it's SUPPOSED to feel.

Love is fighting.

Nick and I are having some struggles with Gabe's last moments.

I am, anyway.

I almost wish we would have waited to lose him on his own time, rather than to make the decision to not let him suffer slowly... But it felt so much like I let him...

Like it was really because I gave up on a miracle. Because we gave up the fight and the hope and the miracles.

And I know we will have to come to terms with it somehow, work through it..

But we always believed in miracles. I believed in miracles.

The what-ifs pile around me lately like stacks of paper that I'm afraid will surround me and steal the good moments we had away with the fears of what happened.

Maybe it's normal, to grieve. I know that people who leave their loved ones on life support in comas for a lifetime are too afraid that they might wake up after they give up... and maybe that's what I am going through.

I wish his body could have woken up and fought off the infection.

But even though we 'knew' he was dying.

It still feels like hell to have been the one holding him, and letting him go. Giving up.

It was giving up.

Prayers needed over here.


Wodzisz Family said...

Prayers are always here for you. I have been praying for Gabe since before he was born and I will continue to pray for your family. Grieve in your own way and feel all your feelings. You have been to a place that no one ever wants to go and you were strong for so long for Gabe. It is time to let yourself grieve.

Anonymous said...

I will be praying for you (still). I can't even imagine having to make such a decision. Gabe has touched so many lives. He was the CUTEST!! God bless you all and I will be praying for peace and comfort for you.

Kae Hutchens said...

Prayers coming your way <3

Shannon said...

I don't think you ever gave up hope there would be a miracle. HUGS

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