bittersweet.

I don't often dwell on all the things my living kids get to do that my dead kid doesn't. If I did, it would be an unending dwelling game and I'd never get anything done. Besides that, what would be the point anyway. 

But a few particular things hit me in the gut. 

And Sam starting school at my work is one of them. 

I think your kid starting school is emotional under the most normal of circumstances. Bittersweet watching them all growed up, leaving them to spend their days with someone that is not you. I'm lucky though because I get to leave my kid in the hands of people who are my family, who I have firsthand knowledge of how generous and loving and kind they can be with other people's children.  

That's why I really, really wanted Oliver to go to McKinley Montessori. 

I was huge and pregnant when I dropped by the school to put him on the waiting list. I wrote sarcastic answers on the questionnaire when it asked if I had any knowledge of Montessori education. I laughed and joked about how I hoped he'd get in, if he would make the cut in the competitive preschool world. 

I was crossing my fingers that my bosses would give me the onesie with the school emblem on it, the one they give to families at school when they have a baby. Of course they did. And I pictured Oliver wearing it the first time he visited the school. 

None of that stuff got to happen for Oliver. And it is quite literally the worst. 

These days it hits me the hardest because Oliver should be going to the school now. He should be in Josie's class. I see the jobs he would be doing and the kids I'd want him to be friends with. Every once in a while a kid tells me they're almost four and I realize it all over again.  

Sam starts next week. He is going to love it. We visited today and he fit right in. And I am so happy for him. 

And sad all for Oliver. 

Bitter. Sweet.