Untouched

I was searching for a t-shirt in my closet today, and I stumbled across the gym bag that I had used for my overnights at Phoenix Children's Hospital.  It's been over three months, but I'm still not able to unpack the bag from that final stay.  In addition to toiletries and a curling iron, there are a lot of Granty's  personal effects that I cannot bear to take out of the bag (button-up shirts and sleepers, his musical seahorse).  I know there's no logic nor reason why I cannot unpack the bag (especially my own items), but for me, it's just one of the oddities of grief that has kept the bag untouched.  Damon and I both feel the same way about his bedroom - - the room is off-limits for all intents and purposes, and I honestly don't know if we'll ever use his room again...even if we have another baby.  I think both of these can be attributed to the idiosyncratic behaviors that seem to accompany grief; it's amazing the power that the heart can have over the brain.

On a MUCH lighter note, I think Damon and I are going to have to recalibrate Alexa back to reality.  The gymnastics equipment she received for her birthday seems to have gone straight to her head.  As Alexa and I were leaving her gymnastics class this evening, she asked me why she didn't have a foam pit at home.  Oy...  :)

Sporting one of the button-up shirts that's
in the gym bag in my closet.  I loved this little
preppy outfit (he's not wearing the matching overalls
in this pic) on him.  Such a handsome little guy!