The difference....

A year ago today was the last time I saw my son alive. We attended my middle son's school play, where there was a small ceremony for the students to honor someone who has inspired them or made a difference in their lives. My son chose his older brother. And I sat there watching the two of them, tears running down my face, I knew that no matter what happened in my life, they were there for each other. That I had raised a son, who was inspiring to his little brother, even if they did fight and argue all the time. That night, after the play, we filled out college scholarship applications and just had a good time with good conversation and a lot of laughs. Around 10 he needed to leave to go to his dads for school the next day, and we stood at the door saying good bye. I hugged him and didn't want to let go. I still remember the hesitation in his goodbye. Like there was something he wanted to say, but then decided not to. Maybe there wasn't anything there and it was in my head. But now, I will never know. My imagination gets the best of me. Every day I relive the last year, then the last 18.  I hear the phone ring, i feel the pain, I see the events of the next week/month/year run through my head. I feel sick, my heart breaks.  I hear my sons first cry and the last conversation we had. But to realize this day, last year I spoke to my son. I held him in my arms,  I told him I loved him. I heard his laugh. We were about to realize his future. The gravity of knowing how much and how little difference a day and a year make is a heavy, heavy burden. I tried so hard not to take things for granted. I knew they were only little for a short time. Life changes in a moment. The things you thought you'd hear forever, like the sound of his laugh, are now mute. The things you prepare yourself for - the leaving of the nest, family, growing older, all gone in a second. And never to feel the way his hair felt in your hand again, to never hear his beautiful laugh, never to listen to his stories or opinions, to never see those eyes again is heartbreaking. A year. Such a short time. But its like an eternity.

Today's Sadness

I counted today. There are 11 posts that I have not finished. Some of them have the potential to be very powerful, thought provoking, worthwhile posts. Some do not. I should finish them either way. And publish them. Not writing is not helping. But today, those posts have to wait. Today is a week away from the one year anniversary of my son's death. A lot has changed in a year. A lot has not.

Today I went to the visitation for a co-worker's twenty year old son. We are casual acquaintances, but I knew I needed to go. The feeling of aloneness and sadness is too great for her to not know there are other people in the world who grieve like her, and for her. And I am glad I went. But it was really hard. I knew how she felt. My stomach wrenched like hers did, because I know that pain. I know that moment. And it hurts alot. It hurts still that much.

And now, at this moment, I am very angry. I am angry for her. That she has to know this pain. That she has to join the others who share this pain. That she has to feel different. That she has to hurt every moment from here on out. That she has to carry this. And I am angry that I understand this. I am angry that I have to know how this feels. That I can understand it and not just sympathize from afar. I am angry because I do not feel it was my son's time. Because I was not ready for him to go. Because I didn't have a choice. Because I gave him life, and was on the cusp of seeing all my hard work pay off only to have the rug ripped out from underneath me. And 357 days later my heart still hurts. I am angry that I see my son's face where it will no longer ever be. I am angry that this has been an extremely hard year, and there isn't an end in sight. I am angry that my friend has to now start down this same journey. And I am sad. Sad that looking for a happy moment should be so hard.