Numb, please.

The dreaded date is upon us. Only a few more days until the day marks 2 years since my son died. I have been playing a losing game of cat and mouse with the acknowledgment of this fact. In the last two years I have been trying to work on so many things. Forgiveness, mostly of myself, understanding, love, growth, tolerance, etc. But there seems to be no end in sight. It seems when I get over one hill, there is another large hill behind it that I didn't quite see. In two years, I have lost a son, gained really great friends, lost friends who I thought would never walk away, learned to depend on a man who has yet to let me down, gained a husband (the dependable man and the husband are one of the same), taken two great trips, had my world ripped apart again and again, been attacked by words of people who need to tear people down, been harassed and misunderstood. And loved. I have been loved. And I have tried to find those bright spots in the world, in each day. Because they are there. And they are magnificent, even through the pain. I have tried to smile. I have loved a little deeper. I have tried to brighten someone else's day and try to remind people how much I care. If anything else, to make sure I avoid so much guilt, next time.  But as this week approaches, all I want to be is numb. I don't want to feel anything, I don't want to be. Even my body knows it, with its aches and pains and crushing gravity. It has been incredibly difficult to get out of bed each day. Perhaps I should just acknowledge my pain and the date. But its an odd thing. Why would this date hurt more? Every day my heart hurts. Every day. It's unlikely that it will hurt more on the 24th. But the approach of the date brings the flashbacks a bit more prominently to mind, and as much as I try to avoid or deny it, the date is significant. I remember the day the world stopped turning. Even if I don't want to. I remember what I was doing, where I was, and every event after that. I remember the searing pain in my chest. Because it is still there.
For someone who is sentimental and feels the passing of time like a huge grandfather clock echoing in her ear, the date is crushing. It forces acknowledgement and remembrance of things I would like to forget. I don't want to forget he lived. I just want to forget he isn't still living. I almost wish I could go absolutely bat shit crazy and invent a nice little story. That would hurt a lot less. I'm angry, and in constant turmoil, and in constant pain. I really cant relinquish, quite yet, to submersing in that feeling, because, as always, I am afraid its not one I can come back from. There have been so many things that have happened, in the last 6 months even, that I can not comprehend. And I am tired. I am so freaking tired of aching. And trying to understand. And trying to go on. I just really could use a rest. Maybe in March I will feel better. Or perhaps not. His birthday is the 26th. He would have been 20. Perhaps April? Perhaps I can just plan to live from April through Thanksgiving. And then from the holidays through March 31st, I will just exist. My entire life has been spent smiling through the pain, but I fear my smile is broken.