It's been eighty-eight weeks since you died and every single one of them has come with pain and sorrow. Each of them has led me further along the road of grief. The days peel away leaving me with lessons in love and compassion, vulnerability and strength. Some weeks are gentle allowing me to breathe into new ideas and expressions of sorrow with ease. Not this week. This one was rough, Bubby.
Friday we marked what would have been your 21st birthday. It's a day that you had been looking forward to for so long. And while turning 21 meant you could legally purchase a drink and go out with your friends without worrying about getting carded, it also meant you were truly an adult. There would be no more barriers or throttles holding you back. Turning 21 is a big deal. But you never made it. Instead, you left us at the age of 19, forever Peter-Panned (as Aunt Lakshmi coined) on the cusp of all that you had dreamed of being and doing.
We gathered together at Frida's, those of us who could, to raise a glass in your name. I saw some of your friends that I haven't seen since your funeral. We hugged. And laughed. And told Thor Stories. Good Lord, boy! You were a merry jokester full of mirth and good-natured confidence that belied your young age. Wickedly funny and beloved. We heard tell of the famous Thor Swagger and laughed at the retelling of how you would charm the ladies out of their phone numbers. It warmed my heart to hear how your buddies and you did so many adventuresome things. Luke Bryan, one of your favorites, put out a song that feels like an anthem for you guys. Whenever it comes on I sing out loud and think about you and the fun you got to have.
Friday we marked what would have been your 21st birthday. It's a day that you had been looking forward to for so long. And while turning 21 meant you could legally purchase a drink and go out with your friends without worrying about getting carded, it also meant you were truly an adult. There would be no more barriers or throttles holding you back. Turning 21 is a big deal. But you never made it. Instead, you left us at the age of 19, forever Peter-Panned (as Aunt Lakshmi coined) on the cusp of all that you had dreamed of being and doing.
We gathered together at Frida's, those of us who could, to raise a glass in your name. I saw some of your friends that I haven't seen since your funeral. We hugged. And laughed. And told Thor Stories. Good Lord, boy! You were a merry jokester full of mirth and good-natured confidence that belied your young age. Wickedly funny and beloved. We heard tell of the famous Thor Swagger and laughed at the retelling of how you would charm the ladies out of their phone numbers. It warmed my heart to hear how your buddies and you did so many adventuresome things. Luke Bryan, one of your favorites, put out a song that feels like an anthem for you guys. Whenever it comes on I sing out loud and think about you and the fun you got to have.
You managed to cram in a lot of experiences in your short life; at least there's that.
Chaz was DD-ing me around after he dropped off dad and Xanny. I wanted to go see Janice down at Telly's house. We toasted you and the firelight shone on the tears in our eyes. They all love and miss you, too. Janice's words of comfort to me meant a lot. We had a good laugh about how you like to dance with her - Cotton-eyed Joe being one of your favorites. We left there and headed toward home, stopping at the wide spot on our road near the cut over where you guys always staged for the hunt. Bert, Travis, Kelly, and Andy were there in tribute of the love and sorrow we feel for our loss. We drank moonshine in the moonshine and listened to music. We laughed boldly and brashly in the face of the agony in our hearts. When we hugged goodbye in the wee hours of the morning, I could feel you there with us, conjured by our collective love and memory.
It's easier being on the other side of the milestone. This was a big one that choked me up all week. I'm proud of myself for making it through, for going to work every day. And while I may have been a little wobbly, the grief wasn’t debilitating as it's been in the past. Grief is pervasive and I believe it can kill a person, perhaps literally, but certainly emotionally. I've been doing the work, taking the highs and lows and keeping my heart open to what they would teach me. I have more resilience, more capacity, more connection with you and that allows me to bear this burden as I walk ahead. You are on my mind every single day nearly all day long. When I see the sunrise and say your name or a cloud limned in gold and think, "Hello, Bubby." A crow caws and I look to find him so my feathered friend can deliver a message from my heart to yours…
Happy Birthday in Heaven, sweet boy. I love and miss you more than words can say. We all do.
I love you so and always will,
Mom
Chaz was DD-ing me around after he dropped off dad and Xanny. I wanted to go see Janice down at Telly's house. We toasted you and the firelight shone on the tears in our eyes. They all love and miss you, too. Janice's words of comfort to me meant a lot. We had a good laugh about how you like to dance with her - Cotton-eyed Joe being one of your favorites. We left there and headed toward home, stopping at the wide spot on our road near the cut over where you guys always staged for the hunt. Bert, Travis, Kelly, and Andy were there in tribute of the love and sorrow we feel for our loss. We drank moonshine in the moonshine and listened to music. We laughed boldly and brashly in the face of the agony in our hearts. When we hugged goodbye in the wee hours of the morning, I could feel you there with us, conjured by our collective love and memory.
It's easier being on the other side of the milestone. This was a big one that choked me up all week. I'm proud of myself for making it through, for going to work every day. And while I may have been a little wobbly, the grief wasn’t debilitating as it's been in the past. Grief is pervasive and I believe it can kill a person, perhaps literally, but certainly emotionally. I've been doing the work, taking the highs and lows and keeping my heart open to what they would teach me. I have more resilience, more capacity, more connection with you and that allows me to bear this burden as I walk ahead. You are on my mind every single day nearly all day long. When I see the sunrise and say your name or a cloud limned in gold and think, "Hello, Bubby." A crow caws and I look to find him so my feathered friend can deliver a message from my heart to yours…
Happy Birthday in Heaven, sweet boy. I love and miss you more than words can say. We all do.
I love you so and always will,
Mom
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