I don’t have to go very far in a day to run into something that triggers sadness or pain, regret or longing. While my daughter was home for a visit we have watched some movies. It seems that there is always a line or a phrase or a emotion expressed that I can collect to add to my applicable “quotes”.

She introduced me to a movie by Richard Curtis called “About Time”. In the movie the main character is young and tall and thin. As I watched the story unfold I realized that his character was living all the things I wanted for my son. It was a very good story and very hard to watch.

I don’t sleep late very often. Now with the new puppy (who is sleeping 7 1/2 hours!) I end up getting up before the alarm goes off. I am trying to decide if that is a good or bad thing. On the days I do get to sleep in when my husband takes the dogs out and quietly shuts the bedroom door I dream. My son is usually in those dreams. I am always so glad to see him and he is always confused about why I am so excited.

I hate waking up from those dreams. Yet somehow even in the dream I know it is a dream and I try to hold them only lightly. If I give them credence then I am stuck for a long time afterwards and I am tired of being stuck.

My friend who lost her daughter 20 years ago said “it becomes softer.” I think I might be afraid of that. If it is hard, if it is a struggle – then I have not forgotten. I am afraid that I will forget. I am afraid that dementia or age or time will take him farther from me.

Even now, almost 3 years since he passed, I cannot believe it. I see his photo and I cannot believe he is not here somewhere. I still ask the walls of this house, “how, how could this have happened?” There is no answer. There was no purpose behind it. It was the untimely, unfortunate, unchangeable circumstance.

In the news recently there have been accounts of so many unfortunate, untimely and unchangeable circumstances involving young people. I wonder if the grief somehow doesn’t settle out on us like the pollen in the Spring. The vibration of that sorrow rippling like a wave and those of so sensitized feel it acutely.

So what is there to do? Steel yourself for yet another day. Square your shoulders, put your well-worn mask in your pocket and head out into the day.

If there were words that could be said that would make me feel better I would be sharing with them with everyone. I would try to make sure those were the words uttered by each person willing to offer comfort. But sorrow trumps sympathy. The people who perhaps try to understand us the most are weary of trying and getting no where. So we try to let them off the hook and keep it behind closed doors, in the shower and at night before we go to sleep.

And sometimes we dream. In those dreams we can’t take our eyes off of our child and we want to hold them close and hear their voice. But as dreams do, they too move on and we find ourselves frantic, looking for our child again. We wake shaken and frantic with fresh grief. Unwilling to totally waken and fearing sleep- it is a sorry lot.

Dear Son, I saw your face in my dreams. You seemed so surprised by how overjoyed I was to see you. I almost crawled over the couch to get you. You smiled and laughed and seemed confused by my joy. I miss you so much.
Forever,
Mom