My grief journey after the loss of my oldest son last Christmas. Cameron was only 7-years old. Originally posted on my blog at www.JustPlayingHouse.com.
I often hear the word strong. They make it sound like I have this amazing strength inside me to keep living. It's not true. My actions don't come from a place of strength. They come from a place where no other options exist. Life continues on and if you don't keep up, you will drown.
It's like the movie Ground Hog Day. Each morning I wake to the same frustrating thing. I'm trapped. A massive hole in my life, in my heart, that only he can fill. The most lonely feelings come being trapped here. Even though I'm not alone, the idea of a future without him in it is heart wrenching. Worse yet, as my girls get older and they don't know him anymore. As the rest of the world begins to forget he existed. These things, the future, create my new nightmare.
It's been just over 2-months. I have this fear that I am forgetting. I've been told that a mother never forgets. However, the more time that passes the harder it gets to remember what it feels like to have him in the same room. To be able to see him there. Remember his hug. Remember his laugh. Yesterday I played an old voice recording of Melia. I unexpectedly heard Cameron in the background talking to me. I was so happy to hear his voice because I feel as if I am forgetting what it sounded like.
I'm so thankful for all of the photos and videos we have taken through the years. Regardless of the amount of time that has passed, I am right back in those exact moments when I see them. Kind of like I'm tricking my brain into turning back time. For a moment at least. They always make me smile. Every memory or thought I have of him makes me smile. It's like I'm happy and sad all at the same time now.
I've had a lot of good days the last couple of weeks. Most people would be happy to hear that. However, good days now come with consequences. Good days bring more tears. I call it griever's guilt. While rationally I know that I should never feel guilty for a good day, it doesn't stop the emotion from happening. Practicality has no role here.
Most nights the tears are welcome. They somehow make me feel like I'm catching up on missed time thinking about him. However, even during good days he is constantly on my mind. I think people would be surprised by the number of times he is on my mind or the number of things that remind me of him during a day. It is literally EVERYTHING!
One thing I've learned, my saving grace, is that Cameron (7) is still here. That is my comfort and my source of "so called" strength. These last couple of weeks I feel like I've started my own "Eat Pray Love" journey. It has nothing at all to do with religion. Simply validating my beliefs and learning to be more aware from his perspective (as weird as that sounds). This is what saves my sanity and guides my healing (if you can call it that).
I'm in what I would call an OK place right now. Focusing on having more good days than bad is my goal. Even knowing the burden they will continue to carry, I'm living my life for him as he would want. He wants to see things just as he remembers them, with us happy. The same way I want to see all of his things just as he left them so I can remember him as he was. It will forever be a work in progress.