Our annual trip to the North Cascades in the Fall

Each year we make the long drive (well long with little ones) to the North Cascades. We take time to reflect on our lives and how can it be possible that yet another year has passed?! We go to celebrate our first born, Asher, but we also go to be far away from the distractions of every day life and drink in the sheer wonder of Fall. With each passing year you would think it would become exponentially easier, but I am not sure that is how grief works.

There is the missing which never goes away and the constant tug at your heart, but then there is the sadness which abounds when people forget your son’s birthday or the people you meet afterward who don’t even know he exists. Doesn’t he matter to anyone but me? Well, what I am slowly learning is the answer is both yes and no. No one will love your child like you do. No one will feel the quiet ache like you. No one will notice all the missed opportunities to make a birthday cake or the years spent watching them grow to adulthood. No matter how many children you go on to have no one else will fill the hole in your heart. This is not to say you cannot have a beautiful life or feel such sheer moments of joy very heaven and earth seem to stand still, but there will always be a dull aching, like a rock in your shoe or a blister on your heel that won’t go away if you keep wearing the same uncomfortable shoes.

But don’t get me wrong between all the missing there are plenty of moments of joy. Like when we visited the Freestone Inn and an employee commented on what “a stunning family” we had (her words not mine) and the tears welled up and my heart swell because eight years ago standing in that very same spot I felt little hope I would feel happy and whole ever again. Or when after nine months of nervously holding my breath I was able to hold those two sweet children of mine or watched with sheer delight as they have taken their first steps or uttered “mama” And in those moments when I feel sheer joy I like to think those are the moments my son, Asher, is standing proudly by my side. Ever watchful and proud. Because the opportunities to say his name outside of our home are few and far between and that will always cause my heart to ache just a bit.

For if only the world knew Asher how sweet it would be.