What about that beer?

I wrote this on July 27th, about a week before Wyatt's Birthday...

As time moves forward, Wyatt never changes. He continues to be the young man of 20. He hasn't changed in two and a half years, but all his friends have. Grieving through time is like looking through a cloud that obscures the beautiful view of change. All the others have changed as children should do at such an age, they have married, had babies, changed jobs, moved to new places, gone off to college...Wyatt is 20, forever 20. Wyatt is dead.

In a week, if life had been what I thought it would, I'd be celebrating and wishing my son a happy 23rd birthday. Knowing that I will never experience that joy, that I live my days without my son living, that I will never see him grow into who he was to become...this time has weighed heavy on my heart and my body. I am tired, tired as if the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. Is that grief? Is that sorrow and longing for what I can not have? Is that just life? I don't know; I just know that I find living to be a chore.

I struggle to find the joy or passion in life. I want to sing a song of praise...truly I do, but I'm too tired to do it, I'm too filled with sadness to dance to life's music.

I thought the other day, I never shared a beer with my son. I wish that I had.

Comments

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 ...

Seeing God Where I am

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world. Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Carolyn A. Rose I've had the distinct privilege in life to have traveled to various places, some vastly different from my home, and some quite similar. Regardless of the magnitude of differences, I can always feel the uniqueness of the place. After a while, certainly I long for the familiar comfort of home... but I always return with a fuller heart and a more open mind. Then it's like a siren song calling me back to seek more, ask more, learn more and inwardly digest it to build me into a more understanding and compassionate being. In a class I am taking, we were posed this question: How have ...

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...

Living with Loss

Search This Blog