The cursor on this page declares what my heart knows intuitively, it's your birthday. The fourth September 8th that finds me crying and smiling through the tears, clinging to memories and the warm sunshine feeling that loving you brings to my heart. You would be 23 today if fate hadn't cut your thread short and called you home after only 19 years of living. There's a Kenny Chesney song that I hear often and it brings me to my knees every time, the truth of those lyrics repeat over and over in my head…
Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
I feel you everywhere I go
I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain
I still can't believe you're gone
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today
Would you see the world, would you chase your dreams
Settle down with a family
I wonder what would you name your babies
Some days the sky's so blue
I feel like I can talk to you
I know it might sound crazy
It ain't fair you died too young
Like a story that had just begun
But death tore the pages all away
God knows how I miss you
All the hell that I've been through
Just knowing no one could take your place
Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today
Sunny days seem to hurt the most
I wear the pain like a heavy coat
The only thing that gives me hope
Is I know I'll see you again someday
I'm amazed and so grateful for the gift of music and poetry and art and nature…they find ways to show me the beauty in the sorrow, the love inside the grief, the tragic blended inexorably with the triumphant…and I find hope. Hope that I can eventually really live again. Truth be told, I'm still heartsore and emotionally exhausted in many ways. Sometimes I can hear the call of life stirring in my solar plexus like a faint drum thrumming along. The beat of life is coaxing me to reconnect to my creativity, to my art and poetry, to life. I feel like I've made great strides in the wake of the total devastation that your death brought me. I'm functional, mostly. I'm open-hearted and can smile easily. I've recently started laughing again with the full-throated from the gut laughter that is an elixir of life. And even with all of this, there remains a piece of me that is constantly reserved, held back, in pain and flat-out exhausted. The fact that this ball of sorrow rests in the middle of my heart and has enough weight to create its own gravity means that I'm still being steered by grief. My toes are in the water of life, but most of me remains on the shore, shattered and uncertain about, well, everything.
What do I want to do? What calls to my soul? Am I going to settle in for a 9 to 5 and be content with a social-media life in my downtime? Do I want to start a business? Do I have that kind of energy…it sounds exhausting. Should I write a book? What the heck would I say? I feel my heart sinking into a depression, Bubby. The irony of all of this is that I'm so scared of missing out that I'm actually missing out. I can't make decisions because none of them feel right. Go left…nope. Go right…nope, again. Sit and ponder some more. To my credit, I keep showing up. Every day I show up with a grateful heart and a query asking God to use me in the best possible way each day. And still, there is so much ambivalence and despondence clouding my mind and chronic pain in my heart that I feel pretty well stuck. I've reached a plateau after surviving your death and the way forward is less urgently focused on breathing in and out, on simply not going insane. Now, I'm well enough, functional enough, happy-ish enough that continuing to strive forward doesn't have the same intensity. I've stopped hemorrhaging and have healed for the most part, but upon closer inspection, I can see that I'm still bleeding out…just at a slower pace. Only this time I don't know what to do to stop it.
The last time I wrote to you I talked about the need to shift focus to your brothers and dad and to find my way to a contented, purposeful and joyful existence. It's been a good shift and there is some ground gained. Not as much as I would like, but considering how I feel inside, I'm gonna be grateful.
The hummingbirds are here today feeding on late summer nectar in preparation for their journey south. That's what I feel like I need, some honey for my heart and a light for my path to help me get to the next level. I don't know what that could be, I just have a sense that I'm still not where I'm supposed to be. That I can't rest here too much longer but I don't know where to go or what to do.
I could really use some angel power right now, okay. If there's a light you can shine on the path and make it extra bright so I can't miss it. As for the honey for my heart, gratitude is the best way to tap the sweetness of life. So I'll double down on that practice for a while. Keep an eye on your brothers, they really need you right now. Especially Xander who is running a little fast and loose and scares the crap out of me.
I wish I was baking you a birthday cake and planning dinner for you. Wait, hold that…I'm so very grateful that I got to be your mom and bake you 19 birthday cakes! Each one was a unique expression of whatever you were into at the time. I greeted birthday cake-baking mornings with such anticipation! It was my favorite gift to give you boys. Still is. Gosh, we had some fun times together. I'm so very grateful for those. Memories that are sweet, like honey.
Still, I wish I was baking you a cake today. Sue me.
Happy birthday in heaven, Bubby! I hope you're hanging out with all our family and friends who are in that spirit realm and having a high time.
I love you,
Mom
