Crying

I love rocking Monkey to sleep. Some nights he just wants to cuddle. Others he wants to talk or read books. Tonight he wanted "Night, night prayers".

Monkey's version of prayers is a long series of thank you's for all things he loves. Some nights they are silly. He is often thankful for his stuffed, blue puppy or his big Tonka truck. Tonight, he was more serious, almost reflective if possible for a three year old.

His little, squeaky voice said...

"Dear God...

Dank you for my new house. My puppy. Dank you for Mima and Papa. Dank you for Noah..."

I always smile when he remembers his sweet brother.

"He crying, Mama."

It took me a second to realize he was talking about Noah. It gives me goosebumps when Monkey says things like that. I wish I could know what was running through that little mind of his.

"Monkey, he isn't crying. He is in heaven dancing and looking down on us. He is happy and knows that we love him." I wipe away a tear...

"I miss him."

"I miss him too. Mama misses him too."

It is so hard to stop the tears. To be so young and yet to know so much loss.

I often wonder if I have made Noah too much a part of our lives, but how can I not? He is Monkey and Monkey is Noah. They are connected by something that I cannot begin to understand or question. I know their souls are intertwined.

When Monkey wonders about his baby brother, I just tell him about those precious moments of them together. I hug him tight and remind him how much Noah and I love him.

Monkey is an amazing child. I am so blessed.