Lost out

Last Friday Brian and I went to the movies with his brother and sister in law. Actually, we went to the Drive-In, an experience I'd only had once previously. Living in a big city with lots of light pollution makes 'in-door' movies much more practical, but we decided for a change we'd meet them an hour and 20 minutes away in 'the country' at the Drive-In.

It was a double feature playing Toy Story 3 and Prince of Persia. Toy Story 3=EXCELLENT, Prince of Persia=Not so much (other than Jake Gyllenhaal's hair...it was the highlight of the movie).

Before the movie started, I was sitting in the field in a lawn chair in front of our car waiting for the sun to go down. I suppose the two movies that were about to play were were considered 'kid friendly', so there were a TON of children there. Children kicking balls, children racing each other, children yelling "mom I have to pee", children eating snacks. I haven't spent much time around children since Aidan died and it was just mind blowing to see them all. As I sat and watched them. I couldn't take my eyes off some of the young boys. I watched the way they moved, the way they ran, the way they played. I was looking at them and wondering if that's what Aidan would have been like. Would he have worn a soccer jersey like that? Would he have wanted long hair like that boy? Would he have been partial to popcorn like that kid seems to be, or would he have preferred ice cream like that one? Would he have stuck around close to the car, not letting mom and dad out of sight like that kid? Or would he have been off and running in the field as soon as the parking break was engaged?

Maybe because the light was right, hazy, you know, filtering through the evening atmosphere just-so, but I could almost see him. My little ghost boy. Running, playing, keeping up with the other kids. Not that he would have been anywhere near that age yet (hell he's not even supposed to be BORN yet...I should be 32 weeks and counting), but to suddenly be around other 'normal' families..it was like a glimpse into an alternate reality. One where he never died.

So it's with this mindset that I went into watching the first film...Toy Story 3. And, it's of course, about a boy, Andy, the main 'person' in Toy Story who is all grown up and leaving for college.

Oh...I suppose I should pause here and warn you, I'm about to give away some small stuff about the ending of Toy Story 3, so discontinue reading now if you have any major desire to keep the plot a surprise.
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Still with me? Okay. So at the end, I cried. I don't think anyone but my husband saw. Andy was off to college and Buzz and Woody had to let him go, and Andy had to make the decision to leave his toys behind. I started sobbing because Aidan will never have toys. It hit me that evening, after watching all those other children, and after seeing it so clearly laid out in Toy Story 3. That he will never get to play. Still, two months later, I run into losses in my head that I haven't thought of yet. Friday's was that Aidan will never play. And this loss was somewhat different from a lot of the others, because it wasn't MY loss. I had a childhood. I got to play. But Aidan never will. As much as he never knew it, Aidan lost out. He lost out on life, of course, but somehow the significance of never getting to play was big to me. According to my belief system, he will never 'know' what he missed...but I will. I will know what he should have had...but doesn't.

And realizing somehow that he never got to play twists the knife in my gut just a little bit deeper.

I miss you baby boy. I'm sorry.

What losses do you feel keenly for your baby? What is one thing that you wish he or she had got to experience?