If today I could express how I feel...

If today I could express how I feel, I would tell you that I miss my son with every ounce of my being. I miss his smile, his laugh, his great broad shoulders, his thick curly hair, his reddish beard, but most of all, I miss him. I miss the boy I raised, the child I taught right from wrong and the beautiful young man that he was becoming.

I miss my son.

I miss his big strong arms picking me up and holding me in a bear hug. I miss him giving me a “memew hug.” I miss seeing him put Elizabeth on top of his shoulders and run around the house.

I miss my son.

I miss the way he was always there for his memaw and his grandma. I miss the way he respected his elders and yearned to learn from them and be a better person for them.

I miss my son.

I miss him fussing about my cooking or not having sodas in the house. I miss fussing at him for eating too many hamburgers. I miss caring for him and making sure he’s taking care of himself.

I miss my son.

I miss washing his clothes and picking up wet towels off the bathroom floor. I miss buying him toothpaste and deodorant.

I miss my son.

I miss the joy I felt every time he walked in the room.

I miss my son.

I miss his smell, his laugh, his smile. I miss my beautiful, wonderful boy.

I miss my son.

9.10.10 MWL

Comments

The Yin and Yang and a Rock

A husband and wife (spouse/partner) generally have different ways to soothe their sorrows, express their grief, and to move forward in life. Finding a balance that respects each other is imperative to land in a healing place. Moving forward can be challenging and scary because all the while you want desperately to keep alive the memory of what was once the living representation of your union. My husband and I have very different ways of coping with our grief. I see him as an active griever. My way is a bit more clandestine. He finds comfort in listening to the songs our son enjoyed, driving his truck, visiting the places he went. For him, these things are a connection to our son. To be in concert with a person who knew Wyatt, or to be in a place they were together is a heartbeat for him. Me, I retreat to a veiled silence. The songs, the places, the things; more often than not, they evoke fear and sorrow in my heart. The marrow of my being hurts an...

God Moment

I was thinking of when I created this blog and named it.... Living with Loss, I knew I would have to live with this loss, but at that time I wasn't living, I was surviving. It was a goal of sorts… but also a mission to keep breathing. It is only now, over six years since the death of my son that I have begun to know how to live again. The sharpness of those first months and years have softened and the pangs of grief strike less frequently, though when they do they rage with vengeance. What a journey of emotion these past six and half years have been from overwhelming and consuming grief, disbelief and shock, depression and fear, finally acceptance and the incorporation of the loss into our lives. I remember in the first months after Wyatt's death, I would walk through the house and tell myself he had gone on a very long trip to a place far, far away. He was unable to contact me and I unable to contact him. I later learned counselors think this is a poor method for ...

I AM

A little step away from my personal grief journey and a turn toward the current times. As of today, over 100,000 humans around the world have died due to the worldwide pandemic of Coronavirus or COVID-19. People are isolated. Borders around the globe have closed. Schools are closed. Airlines are grounded. Massive amounts of food sits rotting unable to be distributed. People are hoarding and supply chains are stressed. Businesses have closed. Governments scramble. Hospitals are maxed. Care centers are incubators of death. Medical personnel are at higher risk than ever yet we demand more and more from them. The bodies of the dead are left to rot on the streets, held in morgues, or turned into mass graves. Funerals and memorials are in abeyance. There is neither time nor place for grieving. Isolation is wicked. Tensions can be high and panic pervasive. Blame begins. Anger festers to hatred. The fragile nature of our ex...

Living with Loss

Search This Blog