The ABC's Of Grief - F is for Firsts & Finals

First – adj. Preceding all others in time.

Final – adj. Coming at the end. Being the last in a series.

One of the pearls of wisdom that gets passed along to the grief stricken is that the firsts are always the hardest. Unfortunately, David and I learnt what this meant in the months following Mack’s death in July 2006. We experienced an overdose of firsts which included the ones you would imagine such as birthdays, anniversaries and holidays and then there were the ones that hit like a tornado, the ones nobody warned us about. Doing laundry for the first time and having to sort Mack’s clothes, knowing I would never wash them again. The first time I went to the supermarket and had to walk past all of his favourite foods. I remember breaking down in the middle of IGA, sobbing as I passed apples, blueberries and chicken nuggets. Taking Ruby back to school to start grade three and not taking Mack who was supposed to start Pre-K. The first time we finally decided to go out to a restaurant and had to ask for a table for three and not four. The first time I actually had to tell someone that my son had just died. The first New Years Eve which was so unexpectedly brutal as I only realized on that very night that I would have to say goodbye to the last year in which my son was alive. The first time I went to the cemetary alone to visit Mack’s grave. The first this, the first that, the list could go on and on. And it’s a sad list, I know but it goes to show that we really don’t realize how many ‘special’ moments there are in a year until you have to experience them without a loved one for the first time.

And so, the first year came to an end on the first anniversary of Mack’s death.

It’s not as if it got better. We were still trying to learn how to handle life without Mack as much in the second year as the first. In fact, another one of those pearls of wisdom regarding grief is that the second year is harder in some ways because the shock has worn off. Now we would have to face the reality of life without our child head on and there is nothing that can prepare you for this.

Fast forward a few years and we finally reached a place where we could live our lives in conjunction with missing our son. We no longer were in limbo but it took a long time to get there. Two steps forward and three steps back for what seemed like ages.

Fast forward a few more years to the present and I understand that this is as good as it’s going to get and I accept that. I have good days and bad days and some days, I don’t even want to talk about. I keep most of it inside now, it’s nobody’s business what kind of a day I’m having. But I know that I have reached my final stage of grief and here is where I’ll stay. It’s very simple, I miss my son, I’ll miss him until the day I take my final breath and what happens after that, who knows? Certainly not this agnostic Jew.

What I do know is that I am grateful for the love and laughter that I have in my life and there is plenty of both. I am grateful for my family, my husband, my friends and for the intelligent and beautiful young woman who is my daughter. And although I mourn his loss every single day, I am truly grateful for the exceptional and joyful privilege of having had my smiling boy, Mackenzie Reed Belson, in my life. It has taken a long time to get to the point where I can say that but I have reached it, finally.