The title is not my best title ever but I can not think of any way to say what I need to say.
Today at work the staff and teachers have been asked to wear black to celebrate another staff members 40th birthday. He knew my son they played ball together through the years and now we wear black to “celebrate” his birthday.
He is a great man, a wonderful father and I do want to play along wishing him many more happy birthdays…
But then it brings back to mind the 40th birthday my son didn’t get to celebrate and I have cried last night and this morning for what my son didn’t get to see. He didn’t get his first ever recliner, he didn’t get a birthday cake or ice cream and like his mother and Grandmother he loved ice cream, in fact that was his last meal his fiancé hand feeding him soft serve after his initial stroke when we still had hope he would be coming home.
So I have come in to work wearing my black scrubs with short sleeved turtleneck underneath, with black earrings with just a touch of red sparkle as I have always been a bit different and I plan on doing my best to stay at work today, to play along and help celebrate another’s 40th birthday, wishing the whole time I had been allowed to celebrate my own sons.
I may go home, I may go for a ride, I may stay and watch the fun and sometime when we may catch each other alone I will tell him his life is not even close to being over it has only just begun.
Some days I wonder would this have been easier if my son was still on drugs when he died but realize it was love that saved him and I am so happy he had love I just wish he had been given more time to enjoy life.
Some days I miss my boy so much and this, I guess, will be one of those…