We were only a couple months out from A’s stillbirth at
Christmastime last year. Heavy in the fog of early intense grief, E and I did
not do anything specific in his memory. He was included in my extended
family’s gift giving which pleased my heart; they made donations
in his honor to various bereavement organizations.
Maybe because I am more energetic and clearheaded a year
later or maybe because a 14-month-old at Christmas is more engaging than an
8-week-old, E and I decided to shop for our son and whatever we bought for him
we’d donate to a local toy drive. We went to a couple different stores because
we each had a special gift in mind. I wanted a ride-on, push-able toy. I figure
our guy would be practicing out this walking business about now and would
utilize a large, sturdy toy on wheels that he could push and thus walk around.
E really wanted to get an animal puppet. We had seen them at a local shop
before A died and he’s thought about it ever since (he got one for Dragon too).
In addition to those two items, we picked up a few more
things. Surely the other holiday shoppers passing us in the aisles wouldn’t
have thought anything strange about our conversation because we discussed it as
if A was alive and well.
“Do you think he’d like these magnets?”
“Eh, he’d probably put them directly into his mouth.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Plus it says 3 years + on the box.”
“Which puzzle should we get him? One of these with the knobs or a block puzzle.”
“The knobs.”
“Dinosaurs or farm animals?”
“Umm, Farm.”
“Ooh, the classic Fisher Price corn popper.”
“Hell no. That thing is so noisy and annoying. I don’t want it in my house.”
“Ha ha ha, fair enough.”
Once we brought the toys home I had the strongest urge to
lie down with them; to surround myself with these packaged playthings. As
though that would somehow make me feel more connected to my son and the little
boy he would be right now.
I wanted to take a photo before I dropped them off at the
donation center. Perhaps this will become an annual tradition; buying age
appropriate gifts for our missing son. As emotionally difficult as it was, I’m
very glad we did it and in a way it does make me feel closer to A.
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| A's final haul |
