Hello reader. If you’re still here reading this, thanks for sticking with me. I’ve been away on a journey, and am only returning now. I’ll never get back to my life before. That was then; this is now.
I have been avoiding this blog really from lack of energy, lack of will and being at a loss for words. At the same time, I have placed writing in the back seat, staying silent as I navigated my way in a world I no longer recognized.
Our son passed way suddenly almost 15 months ago. Wading through days and weeks of numbing pain gave way to months of the deepest heartache. An utter longing for things to be different, for our family to be back intact, without a huge hole in our hearts and the heart of the family.
Before this tragedy, ( we start to mark the time as “before the event and “after the event”) many people would say, ” 6 kids! Wow! That must be 6 times the joy.” And it was. But my analytical side would whisper silently, “that also means 6 times the likelihood that something bad will happen.”I remember many times saying to my husband, that if we lost one of our kids, it would break me. I would never recover. I just wouldn’t survive.
I truly believed that, so I also lived with anxiety underpinning my daily life. And then one day, last fall, the worst happened. In an instant I felt the crushing agony of our lives being forever altered and a beautiful life torn out of this earth and sent on a journey without the rest of us.
“Life is eternal; and love is immortal;
and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing
save the limit of our sight.”
This year has been hard of course on many levels, but I sit here, 15 months later, the pain somewhat lessened by time, but the memories still bittersweet. I was wrong about recovery. You never recover, you alter. You reluctantly adjust. You would do ANYTHING to have your old life back but those requests go unanswered.
So you find a way to keep going. You survive. Because YOU HAVE TO. You can’t change it even though you’d easily trade in your life for an exchange. You come to understand that there is no choice but to keep going.
I cannot bring him back but I can go forward. If I can’t have him here with us, then one of my purposes is to spread a little of his generosity, his laughter and his joy out into the world, and share him with others. That’s how I will survive. That’s how I will keep him close and honour his life. That’s how I will weather this storm.