Searching for Safe Harbor

I read some of my posts in my December 2010 archive and it brought me back to a time when this grief was fresh and all-consuming. My written words felt so earnest, so desperate to get out of my psyche that they couldn't wait to get typed on the screen. The letters poured out like endless raindrops forming into little pools, then flowing rapidly out into the blogosphere.

At that time, everything within me had to be expressed in this manner. I sought to make sense of what happened to Kai. I sought to examine the unraveled threads of my life in the aftermath of his death and perhaps find acceptance and peace. These threads with Kai in it are precious to me and I didn't want them to remain unraveled, un-woven.

So this year I resolved to start re-weaving and try to live with my new normal. As you can see my posts in this blog has been few and far between. I felt it was time to internalize my grief journey, to look from within - what I had become, how am I coping, where is my new normal heading.

In the months following Kai's death and birth, I couldn't stand to look inward because it felt as though I would be looking into a dark abyss and fall right in. I was in fear of self-reflection because I fear it would lead to self-loathing. So I wrote here to prevent myself from fully realizing isolation and my hidden unwillingness to live on without my son.

This blog has helped a lot. It not only serves as a memorial to Kai but it also served (and is still serving) as an expression of my grief and its evolution. There were posts in the later part of 2010 that were a mixture of darkness, self-pity and anger. But there were also some that were heart-wrenching struggles to grasp at light and hope.

Still, there was one thing I made certain of in at least each and every post I wrote and that is, to affirm the life of my child and to make sure that he will always be a part of our family (whether we remain two or become three or four in the future). And this will remain true of my future posts in this blog.

I didn't write blog posts consistently in 2011. There were months that I only posted 1 or 2 times in a month except for June, which was Kai's first birth/death anniversary. Such milestones will never be easy.  Time will pass and the grief may be lighter but the prospect of another year without one's beloved child will still bring one to many, many tears. And somehow I know that there will always be a need to express that sorrow and bring it outward.

But this is not to say that nothing good happened in 2011. In fact, there were a lot of things that I experienced during Kai's anniversary and after that. There are all tucked in my memory banks for now because I hadn't gotten that strong urge to write them out just yet. Perhaps, I'm just being selfish I don't know but I feel I should reflect/internalize on them more before I share them.

This grief and I have come to terms about one thing - we now co-exist in a new normal where I can open the door to small joys and hope that come my way. Where I can recall memories of my pregnancy with my son with an open and accepting heart. Where I can live each day in his honor without feeling guilty and hating what happened to him all over again. 

Next year, what you will read on this blog will be my memories of my time together with Kai when he was in my womb. It will be a precious remembrance and celebration to his short life. And maybe in one of those to-be entries, I'll be able to write Kai's birth story without hesitation and despair. Wish me luck.

Christmas season this year was marked by a lot of things.

My husband tried out a new configuration for the light decor in our front yard that involved spending a lot of time up on the roof while I kept reminding him to be careful. We were able to get our Christmas tree early enough this time around and even got a discount for it.

I sent out some Christmas cards (although they were mailed at almost the last minute) this year. And got out to the malls (gasp!) to get a couple of gifts. No, it's not an all-out Christmas shopping just a get-in-get-out-get-done kind of thing. I'm not comfortable with crowds especially at this time of the year. I felt I had to brave it since Dave and I decided to give each other some gifts this year.

Nothing fancy just some everyday, practical stuffs that we neglected to get throughout the year. For the past two years, we didn't really get anything for ourselves 1) since back then when we were expecting Kai and thought it was time to be frugal and start saving for a life with a baby, and then 2) when we actually didn't get to bring Kai home, we didn't have the wherewithal to buy anything even the things we needed around the house.

We don't usually visit family during the holidays. My family is out of the country and this is the worse time to go. Dave's mom and grandma are in Reno but they decided to go to his sister's in Texas this year. So we stayed home, not that we mind since Dave didn't want to do some driving during the holiday season anyway.

But we visited an elderly neighbor and her husband on Christmas morning. She has been in constant contact with us during the early months of our grief. She brought us food, invited us to her house and took us to some of her book club meetings just to get us out of the house once in a while. We brought her my homemade cupcakes and the hats and scarves I loom-knitted for her and her husband.

Yes, I discovered loom-knitting and made hats and scarves for Christmas gift-giving. I also discovered I could bake. So this year, I baked a whole bunch of cupcakes. First, I baked red velvet and eggnog ones for Dave's office potluck. Then I baked chocolate ones for some neighbors and the acupuncture office I go to. I had fun baking and will probably do some more of it next year. The problem is, there's just the two of us and we don't usually eat a lot of sweet pastries. Hmmm...I guess, I'll just have to share my 'experiments' with Dave's co-workers. Heh.

Anyway, here are some pics for this year's Christmas:

Our Christmas decor in the family room. The Christmas tree is filled with Kai's ornaments. We bought a new one for 2011 as well. We've received some gifts from family and friends this year. In 2010, we sent out an email telling them not to send gifts to us but instead donate to charities in honor of Kai. Some did that this year, but others sent gifts.

Dave gave me an electronic can opener, which will come handy in the kitchen as we don't have a proper can opener (we have one that Sylvester the Cat had on a Looney Tunes cartoon episode if you ever watched it..."Gimme, gimme, gimme the can opener! Quick! Quick!"... Here it is on Youtube)! I gave him lithium batteries for his power drill, which he's been hinting about since October (probably when he was carving out his pumpkin using the tool). Yup, just simple, everyday stuffs.

Kai's bear from Molly Bear. The best gift we've received this year. Thank you, Priscilla, for sponsoring him. :)

Giving some love to Kai's bear. He weighs the same as Kai (8 pounds and 2 oz). He brightened up our second lonely Christmas without Kai. He will definitely keep Kai company in his corner next year. All in all, we had a peaceful holiday season - missing, remembering, honoring our beloved son. I hope you mamas out there had a peaceful and meaningful Christmas, too. I'm thinking of you and your families. May your angel babies continue to shine their lights and loves unto to you.

For Kai and all his angel friends. I am thinking of you and your angel babies today. May our Christmas be full of peace, love and warm thoughts for our lost children. Hold them close to your hearts, embrace them and send them love.

Dear Kai,

We hope your Christmas is one wonderful celebration. We know you don't need gifts or material things anymore, my darling, but we would like to send you a lot of love. We wish my actual hugs and kisses would reach you. But instead, we would open our hearts to celebrate a peaceful and meaningful Christmas this year. Mommy can't promise that the tears won't come because every time this holiday rolls in, our fervent wish is always the same - we wish that you were here with us.

We love you forever.

Mommy and Daddy

Kai's homemade Christmas ornament made by a fellow BLM, Kathryn, in this year's Remembering Together Swap. This is my second year of participating in the swap and I have received lovely ornaments that truly warmed my hearts. Thank you, Kathryn, for the star-shaped, felted ornament.

On the occasion of Kai's 18th month angelversary today, I share with you some photos from his corner. I've decorated it for Christmas in his honor. There are new stuffs I placed on here like the Drummer boy nutcracker and the Snowman mommy and daddy. I didn't use the other Christmas stuffs I got for him last year because there's no room for them. I figured I would just rotate decorations every year and try to keep from buying new things for his corner. This way, I won't turn into a hoarder. I've been watching a TV show of the same name lately and it motivates me to give, throw, donate stuffs away pronto. (^_~) But I digress.

My apologies, these are phone pics so they're a bit blurry. I'm too lazy to bring out my camera these days.

I've been feeling weepy these days. But for the most part, I'm doing okay. Going to The Compassionate Friend's annual candle lighting ceremony really gave me comfort. It's one of the things I look forward to during the holiday season and I imagine we would go yearly with his future younger siblings in tow as a sort of family tradition. I'm glad TCF is doing it every year in December because having a ritual like this makes me feel that he's part of our Christmas celebration, too. That he's not being relegated to the back of our minds. It also shows family and friends that even if time passes we will never forget our firstborn son.

You see, to some people eighteen months are enough time and when they see you, they couldn't help but ask questions like, "Are you done grieving yet?" or "Are you okay now?" or "Is everything back to normal with you?" Really I don't have answers to these questions, I just shake my head and not say anything. I'm afraid that if I do say something, it would be snarky, hateful and offensive.

So I just let it slide. I've learned to block the negativity and stop reacting so as not to aggravate myself. Life is too short to be stewing on such insensitive questions and comments. And I think Kai would put his thumbs up on that one. For sure.

Tonight, Dave and I attended The Compassionate Friends' Worldwide Candle Lighting 2011 in remembrance of our beloved son, Kai, and in honor of all babies and children gone too soon. They will never be forgotten.

Dear Kai,

How have you been, my dear boy? I hope you're keeping warm in this cold weather while making snowflakes and raindrops and rainbows. That would surely be a lot of fun. As for Daddy and I, we're doing well. You are always in our thoughts, ever wondering what you're up to,  how have you grown in the last year and what you would look like now.

I've lighted a candle for you in your corner today. I haven't decorated your corner for the Christmas holidays because your daddy frowns upon Christmas decor put in place before Thanksgiving. He actually complains about them when he sees them in stores nowadays.

I jokingly tested his disdain when I asked if we could put up Christmas lights early this month. And you know what he said, "Nope. No Christmas decor in November please. We must wait after Thanksgiving is over to do that." Yup, daddy is quite serious about his Christmas decor timeline. I had to laugh about it. I guess I'll just have to place your Christmas goodies next month or as soon as Thanksgiving Day is over. So as not to 'offend' daddy's sensibilities.

I hope Mina has learned to love the water. I'm sure she's bound to take to it when you bring her along in your adventures. Did I tell you we got a new dog? Well, I guess this new dog found us. He just showed up one day in our backyard and we really didn't know how he got into our fenced yard. So we called him, The Dog who Fell from the Sky.

He and Tobi got along really well. They're both short in stature and enjoyed each other's company most of the time. Although, they get into spats now and then when they rough play. I guess being both male dogs can bring on their dominant side. (But don't worry, mommy is rather quick to stop these fights with a hose and cold water. Yup, I show them who's the Alpha around here.)

We didn't bring him to the shelter because they might put him to sleep if no one comes and claims him. But we filed a lost report. Daddy even posted fliers around our neighborhood. But nobody called or came for him. The poor puppy. The shelter said if we want to keep him, we could. We just have to pay his city license. So we decided to keep him and named him, Totoro. But we call him Toto for short. You know what, he looks like a fox. I told daddy, "Well what do you know, we now have a fox and a hound." And he agreed wholeheartedly.

There are a lot of things I want to tell you today. But I think you already know some of them since I talk to you in my heart every day. I've been missing you a lot lately, which is not new I know. But that's just how mommies are wired, I suppose. Did you see the white doves flying at the Service of Remembrance this year? They flew really high this time, above the tall redwood trees even. It was a lovely ceremony and we got to see the quilt square I made for you on public display.

You know, I thought at first I have to struggle to feel connected to you, that I might lose you altogether when my grief subsides or as time passes. But I realized now it will never happen. You're a part of me and I'm a part of you whether you're near or far, here or not here. And that's the absolute truth. Even if years pass by, even if hope and joy ease my grief, even if my mind and body deteriorate with age and disease. The connection we have will always remain and endure a hundred, no, a million lifetimes.

I love you forever and ever, my dear one.

Mommy

It's All Souls' Day today or Day of the Dead. I grew up in a Catholic household and I remember we celebrate this day by going to the cemetery to clean the grave sites of our departed loved ones and go on a 24-hour candle vigil complete with food and music.

It's actually a National Holiday in my homeland. And if you happen to be in a cemetery at this time, you'll marvel at the sight and festivities. It's akin to a tailgating party but I guess in this case, you'll call it tomb-gating. (Sorry I had to insert that in somewhere as it is quite amusing to picture in my mind).

Anyway, this year we decided to skip San Francisco's annual Day of the Dead celebration. Dave was too busy at work and I've got a project deadline coming up. So I thought it would be more doable for us to set up Kai's altar at home and do our 24-hour candle vigil in his memory and in the memories of our departed fathers, grandparents and relatives.

An altar dedicated to our Kai and ancestors, his grandfathers, great grandparents, aunts and uncles.

This year, we carved our family pumpkins. Kai would be proud. Of course, we waited until the last minute but we made it before it got dark and the first sign of trick-or-treaters showed up on our street. Whew! We also put up an ofrenda to add to our bare front porch. I didn't want to set it up yet because it's for All Saints' Day/All Souls' Day or Dia de los Muertos the next day but I figured I'd do a dry run decorating it. So here are some blurry pictures:

I totally forgot to turn on the porch light, duh. (>_<)

Kai's stepping stone. Notice Mina's paw prints courtesy of the pet crematorium.

Time for a goofy pic. Mommy's moon and bat pumpkin with Kai's wee mischievous pumpkin. I need better carving tools next year. My hand got sore from using them on a bigger pumpkin. Oh yeah, we wear goofy hats when we're giving out candies. I've got a fox hat on. Last year, I wore a bunny hat.

Hubby's goofy pic with his pumpkin. He cheated on this one, he carved something simple he dubbed, "Happy Pumpkin," using his power tool. No fair! I should get to use the power tool next time. Oh yeah, he's wearing a fish hat but he's goofing about and refused to let me get a proper pic.

The ofrenda.

Dear Kai, Mommy and daddy had fun carving pumpkins for you this year. As we gave out candies to kids of various ages, we thought of what costume you would have worn this year. It was a bittersweet night. But I know you got a kick out of watching us frantically finishing up our pumpkins before sundown. Yes, you have such wacky procrastinators as parents. But I hope you also know, our dear sweet boy, that you were in our thoughts that night. You always are and always will be. We love you bunches!

I didn't forget Kai's corner for Halloween 2011. But sorry for the crappy pics, I only had time to take them with my phone. Tomorrow I'll post some pics of our carved pumpkins. :) I hope you have a Happy Halloween, dear mamas.

I had a son. His name is Kai Edward. Although I grieve for him everyday of my life, I am also thankful to have carried him, loved on him, held him in my arms. He will always be a part of who I am, who I had become and who I will be. My beloved son. My forever angel.

I will remember him and his angel friends whose mothers I share this journey with, my sisters not just in grief but also in love, hope and gratitude. Tonight, I light a candle in memory of our lost children.

 "As parents and siblings and grandparents and families, we come together to honor the lives of babies and children who died too soon. As families, we will tell the world that children can and do die. Together, we can educate others and make the world a more compassionate place for the bereaved. Open your mouths. Open your minds. Open your hearts... October is Infant and Child Death Awareness Month. Please share with others as we remember the precious and beloved babies and children who died too soon." - From the MISS Foundation.

We attended our support group's annual Service of Remembrance today. The event was held in the same park as last year's service. I think there was a lot of bereaved parents who attended this year. Some I recognized from previous meetings, while others were new faces. It was a nice day among the tall redwood trees and as always, the event was solemn and comforting in spite of the tears. I hope HAND will continue to host the Service of Remembrance, I could see it as one of the rituals/traditions we would go to every October to commemorate our beloved Kai and his angel friends.

We wore our "I Am The Face" t-shirts again this year.

The stage where bereaved parents read poems, listened to their babies' names mentioned and watched white doves fly.

Kai's quilt square front and center in one of the quilts on public display. Stars for baby names and of course, us by Kai's quilt square.

Hubby and our friend, Grace, looking at the quilts.

Our friend, Grace, who was able to attend the service with us this year. I'm glad that she's able to make it to this solemn event and remember Kai with us. She's one of my friends who knew how to stay back when needed and reach out every so often to let us know that she's there for us as we go through our grief journey.

"Losing a child is like coming to a fork in the road of your life. You never expect nor plan on finding this fork yet there it is right in front of you. Unlike most forks though, there is an obstacle blocking one of the paths, the path which was life as you knew it.

You can't turn around and go back, there is no way around it, and you will most definitely never get over it. Now your choice is to stay at this intersection or to continue down the only path available. Staying put most certainly gets you nowhere, but continuing down the other path seems impossible as well.

I choose to continue down the path knowing that I can still see that other path and the life that could have been. I know that my son would want me to continue down this path as well and that if at anytime I stumble down this path, I can look over and see him encouraging me to get back up and to keep going."
- From The Compassionate Friends.

And yet, he will always be with me. Always thought of. Always remembered. Always loved.

We took turns blowing bubbles on Kai's day. You can hear how strong the winds are in the background. I just lowered its volume when I edited this video. We were on a 100-foot-tall cliff and down below was the raging Pacific Ocean. We didn't know the waves could reach such a high place but as the end of this video showed, IT DOES! We got real soaked by one. Dave was sitting down when he took this so he ended up looking like a bucket of water was just dumped on his head. Hehe.


Now it's daddy's turn. This one was at the Kulaniapia Falls where we stayed in Hilo. We went down a muddy trail behind the B&B until we reached the bottom. This falls is actually really tall but my camera failed to capture it. The flow was really strong, too, since it was raining non-stop in the mountains for a couple of days. So swimming in it wasn't allowed. But it was truly a sight to behold. Dave gathered some sticks and put together Kai's name. Then he started blowing bubbles while I shot the video. It was June 18th.

[While Dave got doused with sea water on the other video, in this video I got attacked by a bunch of mosquitoes. Fun. I guess, it was better than bees! (-___-)]

Kai's birthday brownie baked by the hubby and brought to Hilo.

I've been contemplating what to do for Kai's day for quite some time. It's a heartbreaking milestone but I wanted to do right for my child. I thought of putting together a memorial service so my husband's relatives could attend but I'm not exactly too keen about the idea (besides, all of my family are living overseas, so it wouldn't feel 'complete' at all). Somehow, it felt a bit alien to me. Like I'm just doing it for the people attending and not really for my son. It has this doing-it-for-the-sake-of-it feeling that I couldn't shake off. So Dave and I shelved that idea.

We are not 'showy' people and by 'showy' I don't mean 'flashy' or 'making an attractive show.' What I meant is that we're not 'outwardly expressive' and that we are more comfortable being low-key with our grief, low-key with our remembrance. Now I don't have anything against a memorial service, I think it's a lovely idea and families who do it are an inspiration. But it wasn't for us at this time.

While I wanted to have family take part in our remembrance of Kai, I'm also trying to avoid the pitfalls of pressure like trying to make things perfect or thinking of 'meaningful' ways to get the significance of that day across to our family and friends. I felt organizing a service would lead me to focus more on making things right, perfect, flawless. And that is so far away from what I wanted the day to be all about. It should be about our boy and about us. Period.

On June 16, we found ourselves back to the Big Islands of Hawai'i because it's a very significant place for us when I was pregnant with Kai. It was where we went to our babymoon, where we decided to name him 'Kai' and where I fully felt the connection we have with him. It was where we had fun with him (even if he was in my belly at that time) and caught a glimpse of what our future travels would be like when he's born. It was a happy time and it was only fitting that we go back, reminisce and 'celebrate' Kai's day there, just the two of us with our son in our hearts this time around.

What did we plan for his day? Well, we wanted to scatter some of Kai's ashes on the Pacific Ocean at the Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park. And it wasn't as easy to do as we thought. First, it's illegal (so don't do what we did) and second, it was raining when we got there. So it was a covert mission and I'm sure Kai was probably shaking his head at his parents' shenanigan. Yes, had he lived he would have known that he has adventure-seeking-sometimes-law-abiding-fool-hardy parents. I really wonder what he would have thought about being 'stuck' with such 'uncool' parents. It makes me smile sometimes.

When we were driving down the Chain of Craters Road, the goddess Pele smiled at us and gave us some sunshine. I had a general idea of where we would stop and do our little ceremony for our son. At first, we wanted to go to the Holei Sea Arch (just before reaching the actual lava flow), but we decided against it when we saw there were too many tourists around. It wasn't really the atmosphere we were looking for, so we went back to the first turn out overlooking the majestic Pacific ocean, which was empty and peaceful.

The place was just right and we, fool-hardy, adventure-seeking, explorer-wannabe parents that we are, christened that place Kai's Turnout right away. I would like to mention (if you happen to visit the Volcanoes Park) that the turnout is quite a dangerous place, as the warning sign said: strong winds, unstable cliff, HUGE waves. But of course, it didn't stop us one bit because we're babyloss parents on a mission.

On the turnout, we took out the box that held some of Kai's ashes and the flowers we got for him in a Hilo flowershop. The winds were howling in our ears as we whispered to our beloved Kai. We whispered our birthday wishes to him, our tears as salty as sea foam. I threw the box and my husband threw the flowers. We watched in silence as they got swept away by the frothy waves. We continued to look on until they were no longer visible from our view. Then we stayed there for two hours or so just blowing rainbow bubbles. Or rather, we let the wind blow bubbles for our beloved little one. It was a very special day that filled our hearts with so much love, gratitude and acceptance. And perhaps, a little bit of courage to love life and face the world again.

Kai's Turnout. The only turnout before arriving at the Holei Sea Arch on the Chain of Craters Road.

The unheeded warning.

Kai's box and birthday flowers.

I designed memorial t-shirts for us to wear on that day. It has Kai's name and birthday on the front and e.e. cummings' poem, "i carry your heart with me" on the back. We wore it the whole day we were at the park.


The hubby, getting ready to toss Kai's birthday bouquet. He joked about throwing it like a bridal bouquet but changed his mind. The wind was so strong, we were afraid it might come back to us like a boomerang. Oh that would have been hilarious.


Having fun, blowing bubbles for our little one. Well, we didn't need to blow them, the wind did the job for us. There were a bunch of people who stopped at Kai's turnout to see what we were doing. Nobody asked us why we're doing it, they just smiled and took pictures of the cliff. Maybe I should have told them the place is called Kai's Turnout.

Love.

Gratitude.

Acceptance.

Dearest Kai, I know you watched over us that day. When we were looking at the big blue sea, I remembered how you love the sound of those waves. You danced in my belly whenever you hear it when we were there last. And so we imagined that your spirit was soaring, dancing and playing at the tips of those waves. How it uplifted our hearts to witness the majesty of this Earth. We would have wanted you to see it with us. But I guess, you have a better front row seat than we do and we should envy you. Someday we will join you on that front row seat and look at the world together and never part. We'll exchange adventure stories with you then. For the meantime, we will live in love, gratitude and acceptance in your memory. Happy 1st birthday, Lumpy.

We put our oldest pet to sleep today. Her name is Minachi but we fondly call her, Mina. She was 16 years old. She was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism three years ago but we got it under control through medication and a special diet. Late last year, she was diagnosed with renal failure so we changed medication and went on another special diet.

We made frequent visits to the vet to monitor her condition. And for a couple of months, she was responding well to treatment and had even gained weight. She was a happy, grumpy old cat albeit with incontinence problems. Of course, the vet gave us the reality check. He reminded us that with her age and her illness, the recovery may not last long and we would have to make a very crucial decision when the time comes.

Indeed, this thought was always at the back of our minds every time we hear the old girl meowing for food at 9am every morning, every time we see her sunning herself in the backyard or walking alongside our youngest pet, Tobi. "The old girl may have used up her 9 lives and she might be nearing the end soon. One day she'll tell us when will be the right time," we said to each other. It was our way of preparing ourselves for the inevitable.

One quiet day, about two years ago, I saw her sleeping on one side of the family room couch with Momo on the other side. She never got along with Momo (ever), but on that day she was comfortably napping while Momo sat quietly, staring at the birds in our the backyard. I joined them and sat near Mina. I patted her head and out of the blue, I cried. I suddenly saw how old she really was.

The cat who had chosen us to be her guardians 10 years ago, the one who comforted me in my bouts of homesickness, was really getting old and fragile. My husband came in and asked me what was the matter and all I could say was: "Mina is so old. One day she's going to die and leave us." And he just nodded. Probably dumbfounded at his wife's show of unexpected sadness.

But she gave us a few more months of her life and I believe deep in my heart that she waited until my son's death anniversary had passed before she told us. It was as if she knew how difficult that time was for us. So she waited another week to let us get back to our center and perhaps, prepare us for her passing.

And so today was the day she let us know. She woke us up as usual but this time her meows were different. It wasn't urgent like wanting food. It was low, drawn-out and sad. I prepared her food but she refused to eat it and only drank water. She continued with her low meowing even when I stroked her. There were quite a few times she stopped and walked around. But I soon observed that she was unusually listless. She didn't want to stay in one place and it was as if she was trying to find a hiding place.

My husband suggested a trip to the vet to find out what was happening. But somehow I knew. I knew that she was telling us it was time. I told my husband what was on my mind. And I saw the sad realization on his face when he said: "I'll call the vet right now."

The vet clinic was busy but we were glad they were able to accommodate us on such short notice. We let Mina roam the house and the backyard one last time. We let her see Tobi and Momo before we put her in her carrier and drove off to the clinic. The trip there was so difficult. I tried to keep it together but I couldn't help but cry. I know Mina had such a long and fruitful life but that thought didn't stop the grief from coming like a ton of bricks falling on my heart.

We had to wait with several cat and dog owners in the clinic's waiting room. One guy asked us what was wrong with our cat and my husband murmured an answer. I tried to tune out people when I was there because I didn't want to lose it and say, "My cat is going to die today." How morbid could that be. I just sat there beside Mina's carrier, hugging a bright yellow towel we plan to wrap her in after. The guy realized what we were there for and said, "I'm sorry about your cat," before he left.

We finally got to see the vet after a few more minutes of uncomfortably waiting in that room full of alive and happy pets. He was very professional about the whole thing and walked us through the process efficiently. When we took Mina out of the carrier, she immediately went on the spread-out towel and laid on it. I made her comfortable and wrapped the towel around her. I stroked her head and spoke to her: "It's gonna be alright now, old girl. It will be over soon."

The vet gave her a sedative and then left for a while. Mina remained motionless as we stroked her. Then the vet came back with the final shot and it was all over. She had gone peacefully. We carefully wrapped her in our bright yellow towel and transported her to a crematorium. Before we left her body with the guy who does the cremating, I whispered to her: "Goodbye, Mina, and thank you for all the joy you brought to our lives. We love you. Kai will take care of you from now on."

We're back in California after a couple of days in Hawaii. The trip was for our 10-year wedding anniversary as well as Kai's 1st birthday commemoration.

Last year on June 15th (our 9th wedding anniversary) we confirmed in the hospital, much to our devastation, that Kai died. So what should have been a day of double celebration became one of the most horrible days of our married life. And this is why our wedding anniversary and our boy's birthday will be forever intertwined. For us, these two events will never be 'normal celebrations' instead they will be both about reflection and remembrance.

But that's for another blog entry. I'm posting this one not just to say "We're back!" but also to thank all of you who have taken the time to remember our son with us. I feel so uplifted when I saw your comments and emails on his day. Most of our family and friends forgot the significance of Kai's day to us. So reading your comments, emails and cards brought us a lot of comfort and peace. Dave and I thank you all so much. <3

In three days, Kai will mark his first birthday. I've lost count of how many times I've wished that he is here alive and celebrating this milestone with us. Normal, that's what I hope for. A normal birthday celebration yet a truly happy one where we, as parents, would be breathing a little better for successfully raising a child for a year. But that's not meant to be. So here we are, a year of grieving our beloved son who will never age in our hearts.

Oh how we love and miss him and these feelings have been amplified this month. My husband and I have been weepy since the first of June. When I started decorating Kai's corner, tears were ever present. But somehow seeing his corner all decked out everyday for his special day brings us comfort.