Moment to Moment

Tim has been gone two years now. I wish I could say that it gets easier, but I can't. Loss of a child has no words to express how we really are. I thought that losing him was the hardest thing I would ever do. Turns out, just living is harder. Learning to face each day with the knowledge that he is gone and taking the next step forward. There are times the scars on my heart rip wide open, shedding tears of hurt and grief. For a little while, I am back to square one, feeling the raw pain of his passing. I still hear his laughter, the sound of his voice, the twist of his lips when he'd tell a joke. I see the light that shone so brightly from his eyes, and I see them closed in eternal sleep. No, it does not get easier, but it does change from day to day, moment to moment.

I am grateful for each and every person who let me know they were thinking of Tim on his loss date, thinking of me and Keith. It helped ease my heart to know that others think of us, care about us, understand that we will mourn his loss, but are learning to live again. I know that others think of us, of him, but sometimes it helps to hear them say it. It tells us that our child is not forgotten, our loss is not regulated to the shadows. Never has a road been so hard to walk as the road of child loss, the life changes that occurred and continues to happen. We are not who we were and we never will be again. There will always be that empty place that belongs only to Tim.

We live our days differently now. We are more grateful for each other and what we have suffered. We know each others pain. There are times when something comes up that Keith and I look at each other and know we are hearing, feeling, or noticed the same thing. We are more aware. It was hard to let that love come out again. Love equals pain when one loses a child. It brings fear of loss to the front of everything we do. Life is so fleeting after all. We think our kids will out live us only because that is the way we think things should be. When they don't, we feel that it should have been us, not them, not them.

Yeah, two years may seem like a long time to others, but to the parents of a lost child, it is only a moment. The loss will not go away, how could it? We learn though, we learn how to walk this rocky road, we learn to avoid the pitfalls that trigger our sorrow. We learn to see the sunrise as beautiful again instead of another long day away from our child. The questions of loss will be there, but in time, we quit asking for answers, for we realize that there is no one who has the answer. Ours hearts will weep, break open, reknit, break again. The scars are not strong for they hold our love for our child and will open often. We learn to accept that and take the next step.

Keith and I are lucky to have the family and friends that we do. They check on us often, even after two years. They let us know we are loved and someone is thinking of us. Life will go on, for now, no one lives forever. There will be hard days, and days that are not so hard. We will cry, but we will also laugh. We talk about Tim often for he was involved in so many things in our lives. So many memories. I wish there was more than memories, but I learn to be grateful for what I have and let go of what I cannot change. I hope Tim knows how loved he is. 'Forever Mom.'

 

About the Author

 My son, Tim, passed on January 5th 2014 at the age of 34. He chose to end his life. So many things happened to bring him to that point. Believe it or not, I understand why. No matter how our child died, that is the keyword 'our child.' I wish you all gentle days and nights as you walk your path. Barbara, 'Forever Mom.'

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