I love our bedtime routine with Bailee. Being that she is 18 months, she still loves to be rocked before being put into her bed. I sing my heart out as I rock her. My tune is terrible but she seems to enjoy it. In her own gibberish, she will ask for me to sing. I relish this time and know that before too long she will no longer need me to rock her.
Our routine has changed dramatically since 12-12-08. Every evening since Grey has passed away, I do not rock her the same. I begin singing and rocking her gently and soon, I find myself staring at her, smelling her and taking her scent in, and running my fingers through her hair that is freshly shampooed. There is not one evening that I don't find myself thinking of Grey and his family. I hold on a little longer, I rock a little more. There is not one evening that I have wished she would go to sleep quickly.
As I rock her tonight, I again thank Grey for the change in me. Because of Grey, I am a better mom, and because of Grey I realize the frailty of life and just how precious it is.
When things happen or don't go right for me, I think of Grey's family. I think of what they endured during his illness, and what they continue to endure after his death. I find myself thinking how the things that once upset me, are really not that important and how little those things compare to the magnitude of what his family is going through. They are survivors. They are surviving the unbearable.
It makes me wonder, does God really give you the strength to endure? They are a living example of the impossible being possible.