Dear William,

As I write this, I listen to the sound of wind chimes outside my door. I like to believe that your spirit is in the wind, causing the melodic tinkling that bursts forth from the chimes. By rippling through the chimes, you let me know that you are close. As I lay awake on many sleepless nights, I listen for the sound of those chimes. I listen for you. I can’t believe it has been one year since your life slipped from mine. I miss you so, so much.

I never wanted to lose you, but it would be even worse to lose the memory of you. How can I memorialize you forever? I want your life — no matter how short — to mean something. Like all parents, I dreamt of what you would become, of how you would change the world for the better. You weren’t given the opportunity to even see the light of the sun or to inhale a breath of air. But you can still change the world. You changed mine.

It’s been nearly one year since I said hello and goodbye to you. In that time, you have taught me so, so much. Honestly, your brief life and the past year has taught me more than the previous 31 years of my own life. So, thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes wider. Thank you for allowing me to understand on a deeper level the truly important things in life. Thank you for teaching me about life, love and hope.

1. Thank you for teaching me that love is truly the only important thing in this world. Love will get you through the darkest days of your life. Not money, not food, not shelter, but love. The love of strangers, the love of friends, the love of family, my love for you. Love surrounds us all if we let it. Thank you for teaching me to embrace love. I have learned that I am only experiencing a deep grief because I felt an even greater love. I have to let my love for you win over the pain seeping from my heart.
2. Thank you for teaching me that hope is essential for life. Hope consists of looking into the future and believing better things will come. I lost all hope on the day you were born. I knew that all of my dreams were shattered. You were my future, and you were suddenly gone. So, how could I have any hope left? Without hope, I quickly understood, there is no longer a point to life. Without anything to look forward to, what was the point of living?
   In order to survive, I needed to find a new hope. It continues to be one of the biggest challenges I face after losing you. Throughout the past year, I have discovered and clung to glimpses of hope. I can hope to help others who have suffered this unimaginable pain. I can hope to keep your memory forever alive. I can hope to love without abandon. I do not know what the future will hold, but I can believe and hope that some good will come from all this pain.
3. Thank you for teaching me to always value the present moment. Although hope is important, you’ve taught me to be happy with what I have NOW. It’s okay to plan for the future, but it’s more important to value the present moment. You’ve taught me that I need to be thankful for my current life because things can change in an instant. I never imagined I would lose you, yet you were gone so quickly. I saw you alive just the day before your birth, happily squirming and swimming inside your home. I cherish that memory.

   Now, I am trying to value a life without your physical presence. It is not easy. I’ve started a gratefulness jar to help me appreciate each day more. There is something good in each day, even the very worst of days. On the day you were born, which was the most difficult day of my life, there was good. I felt an unimaginable love for you.  I am grateful for the day I was able to spend with you — kissing you, holding you and telling you I love you. Doctors and nurses took 50 pictures of you. Today, I can gaze upon your peaceful expression for hours thanks to their thoughtfulness.

So, my dear William, thank you. You have taught me so very much. Your father and I love you with all of our hearts. We always will. We’ll miss you until we can one day join you again.

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Kelly Isaacs

Kelly is 32. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband, Stephen; her dog, Sadie; and two cats, Sam and Sully. She is a special education teacher in Massachusetts. Her first child was born at 9 weeks gestation in May of 2014. Her son, William Robert, was born on Jan. 5, 2016. The losses have forever changed Kelly’s lens of the world. When she is not working, Kelly can be found blogging, taking her dog on walks, exercising or relaxing with friends.

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