Day of Birth, Eight Years Later

Jos has been playing around with the PhotoBooth feature on my Mac a lot lately, recording various faces from funny to alien. For his birthday pic, he decided to go with a pose to match the shirt, though moments ago he had his action hero professing, "I'm a gladiator of love." 

On our afternoon walk, he said it's getting harder without Isaiah, because he's remembering more so we talked some about the ideas of shock and forgetting for protection. 

Yesterday, when I searched and didn't find a water bottle I wanted to take to the park, I swore. Jos looked at me and said, "Why did you say shit?" I responded with something about wanting the water bottle and he said, "A water bottle's not worth all that anger," and proceeded to offer me several other options, from jelly jar to plastic cup and by the end, I was laughing.

As he grows, Jos continues to be a gift, one that challenges us to learn how to live with more patience, more peace, more questions and more joy. We give many thanks.

Us, redefined

I've been feeling that it's time to move from the site that hosted so much of our pain the last six years. That does not mean moving from Isaiah; he will always remain Jos' little brother, our curly-headed little boy. It does mean moving from his pain and coming to a place where we can celebrate his memory joyfully, as well as our living. 

In case of confusion, Jos is the boy formerly known as Joey. He prefers to be called Jos (rhymes with gross) these days, and while it's difficult at first (believe me, I know), it does get easier with practice.

Jos and Joe recently read Alice and Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass,  Jos has been listening to the Sisters Grimm books on CD, and I've been reading poetry like mad, so we all came together over the Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Hence, my beamish boy; hence, our frabjous day. Welcome to the fray!