The weather was so beautiful the day Matt died and it just doesn't seem right. It should have been dark and cloudy, thunder-storming and tornado watches overhead. Instead, it was beautiful. Corn fields were ripe and the birds were singing. I will never look at corn fields again without thinking of Matt. As mothers who have lost infants and long for their baby's smell and to feel their soft little body, I long to see Matt's big strapping teenage body, to hear his deep, quiet voice and see his hands that were bigger than mine reach for a glass in the cupboard.
The weather the past couple weeks has been beautiful, too, and I think I finally realized why it's been hard. Seeing the blue skies and hearing the echoes of the song birds are like re-living the day Matt died, over and over. How can I not tie those two together? The details of that day are forever etched in my minds eye. The scents, the smells, the sounds. I didn't realize it would be like this. I didn't realize beautiful days would now be associated with my son's last day on earth.
My heart is sick with longing.