Moments of Normal

Yeah, I found that hard to believe too. Normal is not a word that comes to mind in the world we now live in. Normal was calling or getting messages from Tim, daily. Normal was so many things that have passed beyond me now. With him gone, me, who I was, what I was, what I could of been, were gone. I had become something else, someone I did not know and had no wish to know. Not just half a person, but no person at all. I cared about nothing, wanted nothing, tried to feel nothing. I was fighting me.

The first time normal came to call, it distressed me. I had not known normal for months and did not want to know it now. Normal mean't that the pain and hurt, that was with me everyday, would/could be worse. It mean't being open for more then I already carried. We were sitting on the floor with Sky having a picnic in the living-room. It was rainy and windy out side. I did something that caused Sky's eyes to grow big and round before he busted out laughing. His laughter, so gay and infectious, caught me off guard and suddenly, we were both laughing hard. That kind of laughter that goes way out of control and you can't seem to stop it. Since that day, Sky and I have shared that same laughter a few times. At first it was shocking and painful, now it is healing.

A simple thing, such as laughter, has brought back part of me. I have found that I am not lost after all, I am not gone, I am changed, yes, but added too. Some good, some not so good. I will never see the world the same again. I will see it maybe as it should be seen, with the eyes of loss. I find it is a deeper, more thoughtful sight. I do not take people at face value anymore. I am more cautious of their motives. I hear their words, watch their body language, put it all together. I have found that, usually, I can figure out the truth of it. What they are really saying. I see the beauty different because Tim cannot see it the same way anymore. Most of the difference in me is emotional.

I have discovered that the me I once was, is still there. Different in some ways, but still, basically, me. And I have been fighting being who I was. Why? Because who I was got the worse hurt a human could possibly get, I lost my son. I did not want to be that person anymore. I did not want to love, to care to interact with others. I did not want to be open to that pain ever again. The thing is, I cannot stop the love, the caring. It is who I am. My husband, daughter, grandsons are as much a part of me as Tim is. I find I love them deeper. With the truth of loss, they are more important to me. Scary, but fact. I know that to love is to be open to horror. They walk, hand in hand. But to deny that love until it is too late is the horror. To have ones eyes opened only when they are gone? That would be worse.

Each day brings new things that cause the hurt to raise up. Not that the hurt is not there all the time, but that it is not dominate all the time. I try to side step the hurt and hold on to what is good. I cry, sometimes so hard I wonder if it will ever stop but feel calm again afterwards. I miss Tim every second but try to not let it over ride what I still have in this world. Every time I force myself to do something I do not want to, it becomes a little easier to do again. I don't rush it because I have found that to do that has it's own consequences, painful ones. I won't do something unless I feel that I can handle it. I won't do anything just because others think I should, it has become what I think, not them. I have to do this my way if I am to survive.

We never asked for this to happen to us. By the gods, anything but this. But it has, it is reality. I cannot go through whatever length of life I have doing nothing but grieving. The grief will always be there. It is me. What I can do is share, care and help whoever I can. It may not be much. I may help only one person in my lifetime, so be it.