When Tim and I got engaged, we took pre-marriage classes at The Chapel. There are a handful of lessons I remember from those classes. One of which was to never use words like “never” and “always.” The temptation is to say, “You never do the dishes,” when really that isn’t true. This is something I have always remember and have applied to almost every relationship: marriage, friendships, leadership role, etc. Over and over I have trained my brain to never use the word never.
But in the past three months I have had to retrain my brain. I am forced to say never and my mind doesn’t want to. It can’t comprehend it. It doesn’t want it to be true.
I went to the grave yesterday and had the realization that I will never get to hold my son again. I will live all my days on earth and never hold Enoch again. Never.
I will never hear him cry. This one is particularly sad for me because Tim used to say before Enoch was born, “Noelle we are going to have a good baby. He’s never going to cry.” I told Tim he was crazy for thinking that. We didn’t know that Tim would be right.
Our family and friends will never babysit our son. They will never offer to watch him, send me selfies, or tell me how he behaved while were away. Never.
He will never wear converse. I have several colors, all sizes for all ages, but he will never need any of them. Never.
Every month I take this pictures of how many months old he is. I will never take a picture that will look different than a gravesite shot. Never a new pose or outfit or background. Every month, every year, every picture will be at his gravesite.
These “never” statements are heartbreakingly sad and yet I have to remind myself of them. Even while at myrtle beach for a minute my mind thought “what if he comes home and I’m not there.” Fifteen years of training my brain never to say never, and three months of retraining my brain to try and comprehend that with Enoch, never is true.