Out of the future and into the past

As I wrote on my previous email, I was in the city with my grieving children over the weekend, at which time we held a memorial service for Liam.  Yesterday while taking my daily walk on our dirt road, I realized that I had trouble seeing Liam in the present or future.  I could only see him in the past.  No more imagining walking along our road with his tiny hand in mine, pointing out the plants and animals and birds.  No more imagining holding him in my arms in our house as he falls asleep.  No more imagining putting him up on our neighbor’s horse for the first time.  He is now in my past – seeing him do gymnastics in my daughter in law’s abdomen, seeing my husband’s face of wonder the only time he has felt in utero movement, holding and rocking his dear empty body in the hospital after he was born, the joy of thinking of his future since June, but no longer able to keep him there, because that is not where he is.  He is in my heart, in my past.  I won’t forget you Liam, but I can no longer dream of things to be.  But I promise I won’t forget.