This is hard...

This is so hard.  Hard in so many ways.  It's hard enough missing him each and every day.  It's hard waking up each morning, and having the stinging reminder that he is gone.  But do you know what else has become surprisingly difficult?  As time goes on, it is getting even more challenging to write on this blog.

And that absolutely breaks my heart.

I feel defeated. 

I have always said that it is our job to make sure that Luke's legacy lives on because he is not here to make one of his own.  But my heart is broken because I simply can't write any more than I have already written over the past ten years.

I have written about his birth, his diagnosis, his surgery.  I have written about his daddy, his siblings, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles.  I have written about my faith, my fears, my joy, and my anger.  I have written about my struggles, my victories, my hopes, and my dreams.  And I have written about his death.

Truly, there isn't much left to write about.  I'm kind of lost.  This tenth anniversary has been one of the hardest, probably because double digits is a big deal in a child's life.  But also because a decade has passed since we last saw those beautiful eyes.  An entire decade without our "bringer of light".

I wish that there was something that I could say that hasn't already been said.  Something deep.  Something profound.  But all I can say is that I am sad.  I'm sad that our baby was born with a broken heart.  I'm sad that he had to go through open heart surgery at one week old.  I'm sad that no one listened when we told them that he wasn't well.  I'm sad that we never got to hear him laugh.  I'm sad that he never got the chance to crawl, or walk, or say "daddy" or "mommy".  I'm sad that he never got to meet his legacy, his baby brother.  I'm sad that he was never able to attend school or play a sport or an instrument.  I'm sad that he will never get to drive a car or go on a date or have a job.  I'm sad that he will never get married or be a father.  I'm sad that he was not given the chance to outlive his parents, his grandparents, or even a few of his great-grandparents. 

I'm sad that he's gone.

And I'm sad that, even ten years later, there are still people who can't acknowledge the loss.  People who have yet to mention his name.  People who ignore the fact that he lived.  People who cannot pick up a phone or send a text to offer a word of encouragement or love.

I'm sad that people are cheating themselves by not knowing Luke.  

As much as I wish that this would be an uplifting post, I am sorry that it didn't turn out that way.  The truth is that Luke's actual day of birth was one the the most difficult days of my life and the actual day of his death was actually a lot easier because I immediately felt God's mercy bestowed upon our entire family, but especially upon Luke.  He wouldn't have to live a life full of physical suffering.  And we wouldn't have to watch him live that life.  No, he was whole.

But ever since that day?  His birthday has been so very joyful.  And this day?  This day has been so very sorrowful.  There is just no joy in remembering the day you watched helplessly as your baby boy died.

So once again, I am sorry that this post is not what you may have expected or what I may have hoped for, but please extend grace.  Because honestly, after ten years of posting, I am scared that I am losing so much of what I have to say about our precious Luke.

And it breaks my heart.