It hits me every once in a while, truthfully a lot, that my son, my first born is dead, even writing the word makes me cry still. His birthday will have been this coming 15th and he would have been turning 41, but he is and will always be in my mind 39 the age he was when he passed away.
Sometimes it swirls around me like ocean waves and I feel like I'm drowning and other times it's like a gentle brook washing gently around me as I remember our life together.
Parents are not supposed to outlive their children and now I have outlived two of my son's loosing Toddy at the age of 1 year to cancer and then my Joey...sometimes I feel it is too much to bear, that I just don't want to keep going. Why bother, we all die, time is going so fast nothing really matters anyway, but then I look in my granddaughters eyes and I see love and hope and even though I turn 60 this year I see a chance to have great grandchildren, I know I have 4 living children that need me and I want to see how their lives play out too.
I know my son wasn't perfect, I don't have illusions of him always doing what was right, but I know he tried his hardest every day and I know he loved me and I know I miss him so much sometimes it hurts to breathe.
Joey loved me and I loved him and now that the alcoholic husband has passed and I finally have time, peace to grieve maybe I can work through the feelings and accept that I will always miss Joey, I will always remember Joey, I will always love Joey...
Sometimes I worry I use Joey’s death as an excuse not to move forward, but then I feel the pain that only loss brings and I do my best to be accepting that death takes time to heal from, to find yourself again after and that with your child’s death you just may never ever be the same.