23 Days

It's hard to believe it has been just over three weeks since Alex died. I think of him every day. I feel so honored to have gotten to meet him, to look at his beautiful face and witness the coming into the world of a new soul. It reminded me just how deeply important birth and life and death are. Even though I went into the experience knowing that he was going to die at some point and that his life would likely be very short, I wasn't prepared for it to be as heartbreakingly sad as it was, nor did I know how witnessing death--for the first time--was going to be. Holding Alex after he died was one of the most profound moments of my entire life.

I've never experienced death up close and personal like this--three of my grandparents are dead, but one grandfather died when I was only two months old; the other died at a distance and I was unable to travel for his funeral (although now I wish I had been able to make the effort); and one grandmother died after a two-week-long decline during which I was able to visit with her, say my goodbyes and prepare, but I left before she actually did die.
The emotion of standing there around Cali's hospital bed while she held Alex can't be put into words. All of us stood around the bed praying over Alex and crying and crying. I couldn't stand it, it was so sad. I wanted to reach into-- I don't even know where-- and pull Alex back and have him with us again. There isn't anything that makes this feel less sad or better: I'm thankful that he's in a better place, I'm thankful that he didn't suffer while he was with us, but it just seems so wrong for him not to be here with us.