10 Months

You have been gone for 10 months, which is over 300 days. 300 days and nights of kissing my fingerprint pendant goodnight, telling you that I love you and wishing you were here. As I lay my head down at night and close my eyes, tears start to escape from the corners. It seems that it happens so regularly that often I don’t even notice right away. Those tears come as I silently ask you to come to me in my dreams so I can hug you and hear your voice, and see your beautiful smile, just one more time.

During the first few months of you being gone, we were busy. Not what I would refer to as a typical good busy, but our busy had a purpose. It was all about you. Funeral home meetings, church meetings, discussions of arrangements and who would best speak to the person you were. Your celebration of life was the most beautiful one I have ever been too. The love that permeated the room was never ending. Your uncle Rick spoke so eloquently and lovingly about the person you were, and still are in our hearts. A community poured it’s love into your family and supported us and helped us through the worst time of our lives. We made it through it. I still don’t know how, but we did. Then, we were busy planning fundraisers in your memory. We wanted to honor you and create a scholarship that embodies who you were. Again, people stepped up and helped out and made each fundraiser a success. We made it through those because we kept the focus on you, and you deserved every minute of it. I believe we did you proud by the scholarships that are now out there in your name.

The past 10 months have had so many “firsts” in them. We anticipated each one with dread because we knew it was going to be painful. Every one of them was heart wrenching and left a mark on our hearts that will be there forever. You have to know that on every one of those firsts, we did our very best to honor you in ways that you would have appreciated.

Once all the busyness was done, it felt so final. It created a form of anxiety, because it felt like everyone else has just carried on with their lives, and here we were looking at each other asking “what now?” The answer, now you can grieve. Now you can open your heart to the aches and pains, and sadness and memories, and all else that comes along. The problem with this is, we had a set goal with all the busyness. It was to honor you and do you proud. How do we do that now? I don’t know that it is possible to “set goals” because the grief from losing you will be with us until the day that we die. I know the ache in my heart will be there forever because the piece that was taken when you died, is the piece I need back to stop the ache. I hope that in time, the ache dulls a little, and perhaps won’t give me the anxiety attacks or the deep, heavy sobbing that can sneak up on me at any time. I do know that one day I will get that piece back, and I know you are loving it and taking care of it for me, until I see you again.