Just don’t know what to write. It’s week one…an anniversary of sorts….1 week minus a child. My mind plays the Technicolor movie of walking into Dylan’s room to find him dead. Most other memories are good ones, but that one is far too vivid. And my guess is that it will never turn to black and white. Each morning I awake with that film being run.
The odd thing about a tragedy like this, and the process, is that the one who experiences the deepest grief seems to be called upon to provide the greatest comfort. I have held so many who have cried….providing them all words of comfort, while all the time myself, screaming inside, “Doesn’t anyone understand that this is excruciating to me”?
Auto-pilot….that’s what life is. God? Sure….He’s around. But when you’re numb, you’re numb.
I was with all my remaining children for the funeral. But I hate the term “remaining children”. The thing is….Dylan is my child…not my ex-child. I have 4 children. 1 of them has passed away. My kids were/are healing.
I miss Dylan…his smile, his giggle, but I miss his smell….the feel of his body….to touch…..how he impacted my senses.
I am lonely. There is a hole in my heart. Many well meaning Christians will say, “Oh…God will fill that hole”. That’s not true. That hole is not fill-able. The challenge is to life with the hole. The hole isn’t meant to heal…it’s meant to be a part of the future.
If you have kids….do more…..
