The morning fog is burning off the mountains slowly. Three years ago on this date I can remember rising early to cook bacon and fix  breakfast for the five other people in the house. My husband, his brother and wife would be leaving for a car show. My son and and his friend would be leaving to go climb.
Later that day I expected the arrival of my daughter and her fiancé. I would have the quiet house to myself until they all came to collect together for supper that night. I planned to paint, I planned to enjoy a day knowing that I would get things done that I wanted to do and would still have the pleasure of family.
Events take sudden and unexpected turns every day. Some have only mild consequences. We make choices about so many things anticipating possible outcomes based on what occurred when we made that choice in the past. If I turn on the spigot in the bathroom I expect water to come out. When I put my feet on the floor I expect for them to support me.
Though I try to avoid thinking about it too often I do think about my son’s last minutes. Having experienced accidents myself there are thoughts that run through your head as the event happens.
I dropped a single edge razor blade the other day and thought in that fraction of a second as it dropped, “ whoops!” and “if it hits my foot will it cut me?” It did hit my foot. One corner of the blade hit just right and I have a little nick above my little toe.
I don’t know what he thought.
He always tried to help me get over my fears. I know he had fears of his own, yet he seemed to find a way to pull back from them, put them into perspective and go on with what he thought he needed to do. I can make up a story in my head about what he thought based on my own experiences, but it would be a story – not the truth.
I was not there to comfort him after he fell. I am afraid that he was afraid. Because of the result of the fall, I know if there was pain, it did not last long. Perhaps that should be comfort, but idea of comfort in that situation seems impossible.
Other people who were there with him that day probably struggle with this date too. I hope this day passes well or  quickly and uneventfully for them. They tried their very best for his sake to save his life. I appreciate their attempt and good intentions.
I wish I could overcome my fears, but I still have them. I am angered when I realize I have allowed the fears to stop me from doing, going and participating.
I cannot say that I fear pain per se. I live with a measure of pain every day. I worry about things I have no control over because I know I have no control.
I miss him. I continue to yearn for him. There are no deals to make with anyone, no bargains to strike. My counselor says that current psychology has begun to question the “stages of grief” that Kubler Ross set forth. Yet even if they are correct it was written to describe the process terminally ill people go through in dealing with their terminal condition. It was not written to examine those grieving the loss of a loved one.
One pet peeve my son had that I share was the incorrect use of certain words. One was the word irony. He would rant a little when he heard people use it in reference to a coincidence that occurred saying it was ironic. I have read the definition of irony in its various forms Socratic, dramatic , verbal, situational. I cannot explain irony very well, but I am getting better at recognizing it when it occurs – usually without intention on the part of those involved. I feel like in doing so I am upholding my son’s cause!
The second is a phrase people are using a lot now and again in the wrong context. The phrase is “it begs the question.” They use it to mean that they want the answer to a question. The phrase is in reference to something being stated as if it is a fact but without supporting evidence. A broad assumption based on scant information “begs the question.” What research, information and evidence do you have that supports your conclusion?
Saying my son did or did not suffer begs the question.
To his sister, my daughter I would admonish her to think about him when he stood beside her in the storms that blew through  Ohio. I use the memory of his reassurances to get me through many situations.
To my husband I offer reassurance that he was aware of your love and loved you so very much.
For me there are not adequate words to describe all the ways in which I love, remember and in some ways try to embody him in my life.
Today marks 3 years since I held him, hugged him, kissed him. I appreciate those who remember him and his family today.
Remember him and his love of words, his love of the natural world, his love of music and art and learning. Remember him for his loyalty, his kindness, his straightforward and simple approach to life and his eager fervent desire to explore, to learn, to wonder.