Sadness and Joy

We never knew, you or I, that sadness could go so deep, become so permanent. It sinks into the soul and becomes the soul. There is nothing that can wash it out, cleanse us of this terrible sorrow. We search for the cure, but a cure does not exist. On some level, we know. We know it is here to stay. We read others sorrow, years of sorrow and cry because that is our life story now too. It is hard, so hard to accept that it is here to stay. There is only one thing that can take that taint of sadness from us, one thing that we cannot have. The idea that we have to carry this everyday for the rest of our lives breaks us on a daily basis. I'm not saying this to infer that life for us is hopeless. I'm saying it because even though I knew he was gone forever, I still searched. One day, we have to stop searching and accept. Maybe then, we can take one more step.

Do you remember the first time you fell in love? The giddiness, the disbelief that someone loved you as much as you loved them? You had to constantly check that feeling so you could laugh and be amazed. In time, it became normal and you stopped checking. We are on the opposite end of that spectrum. I don't think this sadness will ever become normal, but it becomes a part of who we are. We will always check, mostly by accident, that they are gone. Gone is hard to conceive. I think about how Tim's eyes would shine, and his smile was golden. I can't understand how it could all just be gone. Then I look at his son and I know it is not all gone. I hear his laughter in his son, see that smile shine from his eyes. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes, it brings comfort. I take one more step.

Sadness is a cheap word for what is really happening, but the only one I can find that comes even a little close to this heartache. This last week, Tim's son was on 'vacation' with us. That is what he called it. We went to see the Broncos at training camp, Lakeside Amusement Park, bike riding, swimming, visiting. Along side the sadness was joy to be with this little boy. To watch his eyes light up, to hear his tiny voice, to listen to his laughter. It brought memories of when my kids were small. So many memories. In the beginning, I would not have been able to take it, the memories. Now, though they wrench my heart, they also sooth it. Like everything else in this new life, there are two sides to this coin. The joy and the sorrow.

When someone has been with you a long time, the memories cover such a huge area. Almost everywhere I go I see him there. It is not a conscious bringing up of these memories, they just are. He was with us through so much. When they have been with you a short time, it not so much the memories, but the might-of-beens. What they could have done in their life. The regrets of what you could have done with them, could have done for them. It's all bundled into our hearts. As Tim's son laughed and screamed on the roller-coaster my thoughts were that Tim should have been there to see this first ride. Or the awe on his sons face as he looked up at Peyton Manning, standing right in front of him. Yes, the regrets of what should have been can be polarizing.

We can learn to accept that the sadness is now us. We can also accept the joy without guilt. We can learn to accept that when it comes to our loss, we are helpless to change anything about it except how we live. Recently, a friend hit their 'first' without their son. She did not think she could make it through the night. I know that feeling, we all know that feeling. We are as helpless to help others over that hump as we were to help ourselves, but we feel their sorrow, their loss and hope they find their joy, even if it is only an ounce, that ounce can carry one to take another step.

I don't really know if this deep sadness is for ever. I can only go by what others say and know that we are all different and handle our loss in our own way. I had to stop searching for an answer for the only answer lies within ourselves. Whether we are willing to take those steps forward or if we prefer to stay in the darkness, it is our own personal choice. No, it's not like you can turn it on and off at will, it takes hard work, everyday. Sometimes we get tired of working at it, tired of life. It's okay to shut down at those times. We are only human. I always told Tim 'Don't give up, we don't know what tomorrow will bring or what is just around the corner.' Now, I have to tell myself this. This should not be our lot in life, but it is. We must keep reaching for that moment of joy. 'Forever Mom.'