Frozen

He’s missing. I can’t find him. Where is he? He’s not in his bed. He’s not in this house. Could he have gotten out the door? At such a late hour of the night? It’s winter. It’s cold. So very cold out there. Did you look Shanen? Did you look outside?

I’m in the deep snow. I can see the fence to my right, but its dimensions and presence are so much more prominent than the reality of this backdrop. Is this important to the meaning of this? There are drifts before it. I step off the porch to become closer to it. The sky is midnight blue and wintry. The wind is gently blowing. Just enough for the snow flurries to waft thru the night air; feeling the tiny specs against my cold cheeks. I step over the first drift and the light of the moon guides me to a contour in the snow. My mind is racing and I’m calling out. It seems my calls are both silent and soft-spoken. I am not screaming like I think I should have been upon awakening from this. “No. Noo. Nooo! Oh Morgan…” The tears, which are still present when I awake, are heavily flowing from my eyes. How? Why? I don’t understand. All of these thoughts are intertwining themselves at once as I pull his bundled up body out of the drift. He is frozen; his body in a naturally preserved state. In his little snowsuit. Hood, knit hat, and scarf. Bundled up as if I had lovingly prepared him to brave the winter harshness.

He must’ve been one, two, or maybe even three years old. The way I held him close to me after picking him up. The length of his body against mine. The softness to his skin and angelic features of his little boy face. These felt details tell me so.

My mind is becoming coherent. I am on the verge of becoming groggily awake. As I venture to this state, he is ever so slightly opening his eyes and his stiffness is subsiding. I can feel him turning limp in my arms. The heat of my body warming his. My heart is melting and the relief that is washing over me is incredibly unexplainable. I open my eyes and lay still for quite some time. Processing what I just experienced.

Why was he all bundled up to be found in the snow, me not knowing he was there and not where he should have been; tucked safely and securely in his bed? I understand the backdrop of this. It took place in our apartment and yard where we lived when he was that age. How could I warm him back to life? What does this mean? What is he trying to tell me? What am I trying to tell myself?

How do I interpret this?

So vivid and alive. The realness of the front door, porch, and fence where we once lived. The winter hue of snowy detail. The intensity of the worry, fear, and pain enveloping me. The stiffness of his little body and the physicality of holding him, warming him, and revitalizing him.

Was this a dream? I have had a handful of dreams in the time Morgan has been gone. They have always involved both Morgan and Logan. I don’t recall a dream with Morgan alone. And sometimes it takes a period; a day or more, before details start to emerge from where I assume are being kept tucked away. We don’t lose what we’ve dreamt. I believe this. Yet, this dream, if such, held not a waver in recollection.

Was this a visit? I had a visit from Morgan once. He came to me shortly after his death. It was a very special visit full of peace. I felt him next to me as our time was ending. The pure love of mother and son. A visit I will never forget and one I yearn for again. Could this have been? I’ve read that visits are remembered. Visits can represent any age. Visits are realistic. But he was not at peace in the beginning. Or was he? There is something to this that has me conflicted.

It is 39 months today that Morgan has been transitioned from this earth. Is there a correlation to the timing of this? Or, is it merely coincidence?

Perhaps being frozen in time is the significance. While calendar pages and clocks continue to turn, my heart and mind remain in yesterday.

Nonetheless, it is a new memory to ponder on this journey. To ponder until it’s time to file away. Where, momentarily, it too will remain frozen.

~mother of Logan & Morgan 12.1.16