Broken record

Violets in my front yard

There is so much to say about our child, how we feel, what we miss, but we have a limited vocabulary with which to express it.  That must be part of the reason we build memorials, run marathons, ride in races, dedicate bridges.

We are broken records, saying the same sad things over and over and over.  We miss them, we love them, we can’t believe they are gone.   We wish it were not true.  It is not fair.  It was not supposed to be like this.

We rein it in most times.  We have the words buzzing around in our head but we keep them in when we are around family members and friends.  It would weary them.  It might make them not want to be around us.  Our immediate family – spouse and other children – probably understand.  They probably have their own undercurrent buzzing in their head.  Our friends are hoping that we are “getting back to normal.”    Normal has changed.

So we wait, until we are in the car, or in our bedroom or bathroom or shower.  We wait till no one except the dog or cat can hear.  We give in then, privately stripping off the mask.  Whatever comes, comes.  We might be able to postpone this for days or maybe even a week but it has to find release.

What reminds me of my son?

The sunlight in the morning that promises a beautiful new day, like this morning when the dew is thick on the grass.

My dog that he insisted we should get.

My bird, that he said he hated.

Wet tea bags and tea cups.

Gadgets of all kinds, electronic and mechanical.

Books, movies, tv shows.


Just everything.

I feel self-conscious sometimes in front of people who knew us well.  They saw when we were together how much we loved each other.  It was so easy to do.  It was as natural as breathing.  It is something everyone wants with someone.  We were not trying to exclude anyone.   We simply were comfortable with each other.   I think my pain is equally as obvious.

I have one other friend out there from college days with whom I have this comfort level.  Though as different as it may be in substance the same qualities exist.  We seem to be able to take up where we left off.

My son could be absent in body for months while in Colorado or traveling, but our spirits stayed close and when we were able to be together again we were together. I have said before that there was so much I did not know about him.  He had his own life.  I have my own too, but the things we shared, the threads of common interest stitched us together as trivial as those things might have been.  The strongest thread being the fact that we enjoyed seeing each other grow, learn and discover.

He was an encourager.  He worked hard at overcoming fear, and encouraged others to do so.   He found new paths and found joy in sharing them.

It is not fair.  It seems impossible that he is gone.  I miss him so much.  I miss him so much.  I guess this will have to do for today. Today, that will end with the same words as it began. Because this is the new normal.

About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Friends and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Broken record

  1. Once again, you have hit the nail squarely on the head. As I’ve been rereading my journals written since Jason died, I noticed how many times I had written many times about sounding like a broken record. Even now, with the ten year anniversary of Jason’s death just past, I find myself saying, “How can he be gone? I miss him so much.” How can we not so greatly miss something that we held so closely in our hearts. I will always love Jason. I will always miss him. I will always wish he were here.

  2. Cindyss says:

    Very beautifully said.

  3. Cecelia Dunne says:

    What reminds me of my son? Would you believe Yesterday I stood in Walmart and cried. Walmart you say? Although a sucessful attorney Michael never cared about status. “Ma” he said,”Have you ever been to Walmart.”
    ” No not really.”
    ” Lisa and i went to one near Albany. It was great. I bought three pairs of pants and some shirts I can”t wait to go back again.”
    So yesterday, when my theraoy session was cancelled, surprise, I saw a Walmart. I went in and stood in the men’s department and cried my eyes out. It is one of the many crazy things.
    Thanks for sharing

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