The first snow happened the year before. Cold swept in. It felt just like my soul. Hubs, then boyfriend, and I held each other and wondered "why?"
It was the second worse day of my life; second only to the day before when the doctor said "sorry..." and my screamed filled the air.
I can close my eyes and see the room, feel the moments slowly tick by, feel Moose's body leave mine.
feet..head...arms...
Moose left me upside-down. Feet first, like he/she was trying to stop everything just like I was trying to stop everything.
Moose...my baby...my sweet baby...our sweet baby
I made a choice to not look at the calendar. I didn't want to know the date. I didn't want to have an anniversary of the day. I just wanted to miss my baby because having a date would mean every year there would be a day like this. Stupid hospital. Made me know the date.
Now, I sit here. Knowing the weather still reflects my pain.
It's supposed to be snowing at home. I just want to go home and feel the snow. It feels like Moose letting me know that Wombat doesn't change anything. That Moose is hugging me with cold, snowy arms.
