In this past week Theo's been crawling into our bed every night around 3:00am. On Friday night I had a fever of over 101 with aches and pains everywhere. Theo got into our bed, kicked, thrashed and wiggled, but we gladly put up with it as it was evident that he really needed to sleep with us.
I tend to forget that Theo's been greatly traumatized. He's been such a resilient child, learning his letters, excitedly making new friends at preschool, happily playing and reading with me during the day. I can easily forget how wounded he really is. Theo's been especially needy these last few weeks, having a hard time going to sleep at night, being fearful during nap-times, talking about how he misses Vincent during the day (it used to just be part of his night-time routine).
Today we visited Vincent's grave, and Theo talked the entire way there about Vincent. "I wish I could see Vincent." "I really miss Vincent." "I wish I could play with Vincent." "I wish we could be with Vincent."
It seems that the finality of Vincent's removal from our family has really sunk in. Theo misses his brother. I miss him too.