From my good friend and supporter extraordinare, Laurel:

Nora, I just wanted to say thanks for posting about your grief–and moments of Light. Only you can know what you are going through, and I am so grateful to you for letting us in a little. I wish so badly that we could all help you carry this pain. I wish the pain that your hundreds of friends are feeling about Ayrie could somehow diminish the pain you feel.

My Response:

I haven’t been talking to people much in person or on the phone. the words seem to insufficient when they come out of my mouth. my tounge seems clumsy. my mind seems dull. But when i find a moment or two to write down my thoughts and I get feedback from people I feel less alone, and it reminds me just how much ayrie was loved and appreciated. And that’s something that I’ve goon back to as a touch point for gratitude…..

And in the spirit of openness, here are some more thoughts that I wrote to friends yesterday:

This weekend was awful.  I’ve hear of pain scales where the lowest anchor is ‘a pain worse than death’.  That’s how I felt this weekend. I received a letter in the mail on Saturday from the anesthesiologist who was one of the last doctors to spend time with Ayrie while he was alive.  It was a sweet letter saying that most kids in the OR are withdrawn whereas Ayrie was open and engaged… and how much that touched him.  So much so that he cried when he heard of Ayrie’s death.

The letter made me realize that I was the only person that I am still connected to who was with Ayrie in his last 12 hours and that the memory of that time rests almost solely within me.  Other memories of Ayrie will be kept alive through the people who loved him, but this last day…. I already feel it slipping away.  And that made/makes me incredibly sad.  I am going to work at maintaining some of the relationships that I formed with staff at MEEI in Boston but still…..

I also wonder a lot why no man loves me and why I am going through this alone.  Not alone, in that I have an amazing community, but at night I go to bed alone and cry alone.  I don’t know.  I wish I had someone who loved Ayrie and knew Ayrie as much as I did to share these private moments with.  I guess I am mourning the fact that Ayrie didn’t have a father who lived with us and loved Ayrie, loved Shiya, loved me, loved building our family.