Today was crazy hair day at my son's school. Last year on Crazy Hair Day, I had to tell him the news. I remember him being so excited because he had so much fun at school that day. My mom had done his hair all spikey and colored it. He couldn't wait to show me. I remember how happy he was. I wrote this when in my first post on this blog:
"I had to tell my son what happened, and that was the hardest part for me. He's almost 11, but has never really had to deal with death before. I made sure we were alone in the hospital room, and then said I had to tell him something. He smiled at me and said, "You know if it's a boy or a girl don't you?" My heart broke because I knew his life was never going to be the same after I told him. He cried, which broke my heart. I cried, which broke his."
Telling my son was, and still is, the worst part of loosing Brenna. As much as my heart breaks from loosing her, it is broken into a million more pieces everytime I think of the smile on his face when he said, "You know if it's a boy or a girl don't you?" I literally felt like dying. I knew his life was going to change forever.
I have been thinking about Crazy Hair Day all day. I wonder if it will ever be the same for us again.