Today Roman would be 3 years old. Usually for the kids’ birthday blog posts, I’d be going through my phone, picking out all of the memorable photos and videos from their last year. But I don’t have anything to show of him for the past year. Instead, I’m just left with my memories of the holes we felt this year and my tears.

This year, we moved from NY to San Diego, it was something we talked about for quite awhile, but we always came back to the same question— how could we leave Roman behind in NY?
In the hospital, where we had our car seat ready to bring Roman home, the last thing we were expecting was to have to make decisions on whether or not we wanted to bury or cremate our son. It’s one of those things where, how could we possibly know what we would have wanted for him years down the road? I don’t necessarily regret having buried him. I’m grateful for the extra moments at his funeral where I got to see and touch his little face one final time. And I’m grateful to have a place to visit him, a place where Ron grew up and Roman’s grandparents still live. Yet at the same time, I really do wish we could have brought him here with us.
In the end, we were able to make the decision to move our family cross-country. It wasn’t easy. In fact, the hardest part about leaving NY was that final night in the cemetery as Ron and I struggled to find the words to say goodbye, yet again, to our son. I also hate that I don’t have any photos of our whole family at Roman’s memorial. With Covid, it seems like it’ll be awhile before we’re able to get back to NY to visit him, which feels hard.

Even through this tough transition, our friends and family have cared for us so well. Many people have visited Roman’s memorial on our behalf, always bringing me to tears. He is so loved and never forgotten.

Roman my prince,

Oh how I miss you. We all miss you. Papi writes letters to you often. Aly is always quick to proudly tell everyone she meets that she has 4 little brothers and draws pictures for you often. Fynn has started to understand more of what happened, and he really misses you. He constantly tells me what sort of things he’d be playing with you. Jackson has now learned your name. Whenever he sees your photos around our house, he says “Roman sweeping Hebbens” (Roman sleeping in Heaven). And Luca, well, we tell even him about you. You are constantly on our minds. We miss you at all of the big events, and sometimes the smallest moments bring me the most pain. What I wouldn’t give to see you rolling around in the sand, watch you ride a scooter, paddle board with your dad, or cuddle up with me during family movie night. I wish I knew your face. Would you look just like your brothers now? Probably. What would your laugh sound like? And as silly as it might seem, what I really wish I could do would be able to say, “Roman Xavi!” as I reprimanded you from some mischief. Oh buddy, I don’t get to say your name nearly enough. That’s the thing I miss the most, speaking your name. I try to as often as I can, but even then it’s not enough. Roman, I miss you today as much as I missed you 3 years ago. I hope your heavenly birthday is spectacular, I’m sending you all of my love today and always.

Until we meet again,

Mami

Roman Xavi- 3 Years Old