Remembering my sweet little E, who died ten years ago on January 19.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

I'm taking a teddy bear and balloon to his spot at the cemetery this noon. Mostly I feel proud to be his mom. He was only here on earth for 138 days but he did reach people and he made a difference in people's lives. One of the neonatologists told me that Ethan changed him forever, and I believe that.

Love is powerful. I'm not just feeling "strong," but calm today. That has to be about love more than anything; otherwise I'd be cowed down by grief and unable to have my own life. I no longer have to define myself as a bereaved mother, but I will never stop missing and loving Ethan George.

He was cute, funny, stubborn, engaging, charming, sweet, and adorable, and he had his own tastes and preferences and showed them. He was born with blue eyes which turned brown overnight in the hospital when he was three months old, and his hair was very blond. He said one word, "Wow!", clear as day. He loved music and he hated clothes with buttons, zippers, or anything up around his neck. He had very specific favorite ways to be held and comforted, and on his next-to-the-last day, he insisted that I keep my finger on his chin, just so.

He made friends with everyone who came across his path at the hospital, and at his funeral all of his nurses and doctors came to be with us, as well as many friends and family, and we played music and told stories and cried and somehow made our way through what was really an experience you'd never imagine happening to you.

I remember it all vividly, but it doesn't haunt me. I am just calm today. I just feel the love.