I swear I heard him whisper my name this morning. "Steph" I know my mind is just making things up because I want so badly to hear him again. To see him again. To touch him again. But I don't care. Maybe it was real.
I was going through Noah's drawer this morning and noticed a brand new unworn pair of navy pinstripe pants. Pants that I grabbed off the clearance rack at Babies R Us last fall. I thought, "Matt is going to love these." Noah never did have a chance to wear them. I kept them around just in case he might still fit into them for some other special occasion like Easter or something. I didn't realize when I bought those pants, Noah would be wearing them to his daddy's funeral.
I think about what went through his mind right before it happened. Or right as it happened. I want nothing more than to know that he was unafraid, pain-free. But I won't know that, ever. I have to keep reminding myself that no matter how tragic his death was, he is looking down on us from a place that is providing him nothing but comfort and assurance that we will be okay. Because I know he is worried about us... that is how he is. And I am, too. But being surrounded by family and friends and thousands of warm wishes helps me realize that I am not alone.
The abundance of prayers for both Matt, myself and our families is so very much appreciated.