Today is Labor Day. For most people, this day represents a day off work, a holiday, a day to celebrate and be with family and have a cookout. But for your mother and me, Labor Day will never be that for us again. At least not entirely.
Today was the day that we should have been rushing off to the hospital so excited and blessed to be able to welcome you into the world – our incredible miracle of God, our first-born child. But that wasn’t to be. You and God had a different plan.
For the past week, your mother has been very emotional – crying at the drop of a hat, moody, and upset. I am the strong one, and I keep telling her that everything is going to be okay and that God has a plan and that we can’t let that horrible, sad event cripple us. And I was fine – I really was. Until today.
I remember this past February 12th when you left us. For me, Valentine’s Day will never be the same. I remember vividly the pain that your mother was going through. The confusion. The sadness. I remember driving home after 5 hours in the emergency room and just crying.
I remember feeling angry at the doctors. They had no answers. They STILL have no answers. I hear that’s common. But, for me, not ever knowing WHY this happened is the toughest part, because I want to fix the problem. I’m a fixer. When your mother needs something, I fix it. I come to the rescue. I try to be her super hero. Just like I wanted to be for you. But I couldn’t fix this. It wasn’t for me to fix.
So, I’m sitting here thinking about what could have been. I’m concerned about your mother. And I totally understand why she’s been so emotional. I guess the day actually had to arrive in order for me to start feeling the emotions I’ve been keeping inside these last 6 months. It feels good to write it out.
I keep thinking about what you could have been. Not knowing if you were going to be a little boy or a little girl leaves the possibilities endless. I like to think that you would be a musician, following after your mother and my footsteps – except so much better. Or, maybe a football star like your uncle and grandfather. A teacher like your mother and so many other members of our family? Maybe a politician…………….no, not a politician. Whatever you wanted to be, I know you would have been great.
R.I.P. Baby Goff. I love you very much and I am broken-hearted that I won’t get to meet you until we are together again in Heaven. I think about you all the time.
With all the love in my heart,