When Phillip was a small boy, he was so easy. He was an easy baby. He would do whatever I asked of him. He was helpful and he was protective of the other kids. I remember when he was five years old he made up a langauge all of his own. He named each of the kids with funny names and he could do this crazy clunking noise with his tongue like no one I know. My heart is broken.
I remember the last time I saw and held Phil. It has been two weeks today since I last saw Phillip. He had just rented a new apartment and Paul, Josephine and I went over to see it. He had Ava Rose with him and Paul and I sang and danced with her. I have a video to post on it…unfortunately Phillip wasn't in the video….only Paul, Ava and I. I can hear his voice though. When we left I
The Cremation on 911 It seemed appropriate that September 11 was the day my son was cremated. I don't know why…it just did. He was born on the 4th of July, died on Labor Day Weekend and it just seemed like his life was always revolving around some sort of important date. I never knew anything about cremation. In Nebraska we always had a family plot. When I go home, I always visit the cemetary and I knew nearly everyone
Today was rough. I had several melt downs. I was angry and sad and sad and then angry. I lashed out at my husband. I did things that were not rational. I rebelled against my husband. I popped a beer at 8:30 in the morning…then when my husband questioned me, I said, "Who makes these rules that you can't drink a beer in the morning?" I was angry at Phil today and then I woud feel guilt for being angry.