I can hear him clearly.
“Mah-ahm!”
I loved the way my Tanner said my name when I walked in the door. It was always this adorable combination of surprise and joy and the inflection would change half-way through.
Even better, it was always accompanied by a huge grin like he hadn’t seen me in months and my arrival was the best thing to have happened that day — even if I’d just gone to the grocery store.
I wish I could write it out as I can hear it — in part to share the cute way he said one of his favorite words, in part because I’m afraid for the day I can’t hear it myself and I never want to forget that sound.
Driving home from San Francisco with my kids in the back seat, I’m missing my baby. GPS says we only have an hour left and my mind drifted to home. For a split second it felt like he should be there, waiting for me, happy to see me.
In my mind, he looks up from the couch where he’s bent over watching the iPad, grins big and say “Mah-ham!” with a look that says “Where have you been, I’ve missed you!”
But this time it has been months.
And it’s me missing him.
Desperately.
He should be there when I get home. The sound of him saying “mah-ham!” shouldn’t be left to my imagination and fading memories.
Through tears falling down my cheeks as I try to hide my pain from the kids in the backseat, I have to try and remember that I’m still truly the most blessed mom in the world.
For thirteen years, I was his mom. I got to be mom to a precious, joyful child who lit up when I entered the room.
Every. Single. Time.
Not many moms can claim that.
He was so special.
I was so blessed.
I was blessed, and I am blessed… as I will always be his mom and will always claim that beautiful light as my son.
.
.
Oh my Tanner, my angel in heaven, I love you. Heaven can’t come soon enough.
