Counting Time

I no longer count this time in seconds, minutes, hours, days or month. I count it in years. It is three years today, Jan 5 that my son died. Nothing in the years to come will change that one fact or anything about that day. it will always be there, always be the same. My heart hurts as much now as it did that first moment of loss. I hope that one day, it will soften even just a little. On many days throughout the year, I try to be positive, I try not to dwell on he who is lost to me, but on this day, that is not possible. It is forever etched on my broken soul.

I see the amusing, loving and amazing little boy he was. The hard to handle teenager and the loving father to a wonderful little boy. There are still moments that it is hard to believe he is gone and never coming back. I can’t pretend otherwise for that path leads to greater pain. I hold the love I have for my husband, daughter and grandsons in front of me as a guiding light to get through my darkest hours. Most of the time, that is what keeps me alive, keeps me moving forward in a world missing one.

There are so many different emotions connected to grief that at times, one thinks they have always felt that way. It is hard to remember a time when the hurt did not lurk just below the surface. We don’t hold on to the pain because we want to. It holds on to us. To lose one so loved cannot be forgotten or laid to rest for we are left behind and we feel that everyday.

Many want to know how long the sorrow lasts. It could last forever. It depends all on you and how you are able to negotiate through this giant mine field. There are no easy answers or fixes, there are not even hard ones. Maybe that is why we feel we have been set adrift in a stormy sea without a paddle. No one can help us, it is ours and ours alone to survive or die. The one thing others can do, even three years or ten years or twenty years later is to give us shoulder to lean on for a little while. Words do not help but mostly cause immeasurable harm.

I hear Tim’s voice in my ear saying “I love you Mom.” And I have not doubt that he did. I whisper back, “I love and miss you Tim.” And he knows that is true. It is so damn hard to lose your child no matter what age they are. They have been a part of your life from conception until the day they die and even then, they stay a part of you. So many memories but they never seem to be enough, never enough. My life be gentle to you as you travel this road that so many have and will again. Love and Light… “Forever Mom.”

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