words vs actions.

Dear Isaac,

Having stitched myself to your heart from the moment I saw your sweet little scrunched up new born face, I really and truly never attached to anyone else quite like I did with you. I was always aware of this, a proud yet quiet knowing. Before you came I was very much in love with your daddy, but I was not a softy like I became. I was not a sweet girl. I was reckless and rebellious and irreverent. I’ve probably told this story a thousand times since the day you were born, but, it is truer than true; I felt like the Grinch on Christmas Day….

“And what happened then? Well in Whoville they say, that the Grinch’s small heart, grew three sizes that day”–Dr Suess

My heart could barely contain all the love that was born that day. I did my best to keep up with love and to honor your beautiful spirit the very best that I could. I always knew that I had been given a very sacred job, by being your mama. I hope you could tell. I know that I told you all the time how much I loved you and how special you were, but I hope you knew beyond my words, into my actions, even when I made mistakes or had to yell or be bossypants. I hope you knew I was doing my faltering best.

I’ve been thinking again alot about your senior pictures. I’m so glad that I let you and D skip school and took you shopping. I loved that day. We had such a good time and we laughed so hard at our vastly different taste. But you trusted me with a few shirts that ended up being your top picks on picture day. That really touched my heart. I was so happy you let me be a part of that day, in the dressing room with you, helping you look “smoove”. I was utterly shocked that you wanted a photo with me. It has caused me so much pain that I said no, before you were even gone. I came there in raking clothes and my hair such a mess, never expecting or thinking that we would do that. I still just cant get over the fact that you wanted one with me. Did I tell you I emailed Craig that night to try to arrange another session so we could get some together? I cried so hard when I left, regretting that I was too proud to get a photo with my beautiful boy when I was looking so haggard, in my eyes. You were just so earnest and sweet when you said, at the end of the session, “uh, mama, we aren’t done, aren’t we going to get one together?” I giggled and said something self deprecating. You said it didn’t matter. You likely even said I looked great. I truly regret that, my sweet boy. I’m so sorry. My vanity has held me back from far too much in life, but that one takes the cake.

I thought about it alot right away after you left. For awhile, it changed me. I wore a bathing suit in public. I walked around the house in my underwear. I just didn’t care about that crap anymore. Who cares. It was heartbreakingly liberating. It didn’t last. I’m working on it. I know, I know, you heard that one alot! Just today I found an email from the day after your birthday in 2011 to a friend where I quoted you saying “mama, it has never mattered to me what you look like, it has only ever mattered to me that it bothers you so much”. Damn. What an epic waste of precious time.

Your untimely departure from my life has really shined a light on things in my life that needed illumination. I am truly working them out, it is the very least I can finally do, in honor of beautiful you. You brought my true identity to a screeching halt twice; at the moment of your birth and the moment of your death.

I miss you  fiercely & I love you forever.

Love,

Mama

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In Dreams by Jai Jagdeesh (Listen Here!)

Rest in peace

Dream your sweet dreams

“Til your soul is released

Beloved Child

My heart is yours

Beloved Child

Go out and open doors

With your love

With your faith

With your compassion

With your grace

Oh, with your grace

Beloved Child

You are the light of the world

Beloved Child

Go out, spread light to the world

Be strong, be kind, be brave

Know your mind know that you’re are divine

Know that it’s alright to be afraid

Dhan Dhan Guru Ram Das

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Published by: christinaryanstoltz

I write to touch the supple center of unguarded ache~ To release myself from the pressure of not knowing how to move forward from the unfathomable loss of my beloved son, my beautiful boy Isaac, to suicide, of not knowing how to release my grip on of the past, both the worshipping of it as well as the beating myself up for it, and letting go of the need to know what I could’ve done or what on earth I will do now. I write to heal.

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