I want to grab ahold of the World, turn it upside down and shake everything loose. I want the sad, depressing, difficult parts to fall away, to vanish into the ether, so that when I turn it all right side up again, all we’ve got left are the good pieces. The thing is, I’m not even sure if I could figure out which was which.
I can’t get my arms around the World, either, and I’m not strong enough to lift it. Besides, the vigorous shake I would give it would do nothing more than rattle everything around. Probably break a few things in the process. Nice things like summer days would end up cloudy and muddied. And I’ve had enough of the rain to last for a good long while. Best for me to just sit here, nearly motionless, my only action the turn of the page of the newspaper I hide behind like a shield.
Ensconed by the fences of our yard I choose to enjoy the warm air and sunlight. With an almost-imperceptible effort that is oh-so-familiar to me now, I decide that today’s beauty will not cut me to pieces. It is a choice, though. It is all too easy to let the grief and despair dominate.
This doesn’t get easier. It’s not better today than it was any yesterday. In some ways it is even worse, because now there’s been all this time to think about what happened, and to more fully realize how deep losing him goes.
He is gone but we are still here waiting for him. And everyone we know is looking back at us from their bright and lively futures. I don’t feel that sense of future. It is all just one long, brutal Now that started the moment we lost him. Because that cannot and will not ever change it is difficult to feel that anything has changed at all.
Now I am exactly montionless, because even reading has stopped. Only my thoughts remain moving as I twist around and around how today the World is the same because Silas is not here. Tears flow down my cheeks but I don’t wipe them away. There are still so many more to come and I have no where to go.


6 comments
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July 5, 2009 at 11:30 pm
Sally
I don’t believe time heals, either. It just takes us further away. But I hope as time marches on, it takes you and Lani somewhere beautiful again.
I believe so strongly beauty will return to your lives, I just wish I could tell you when, and I wish it would hurry up.
July 6, 2009 at 12:29 am
sweetsalty kate
Just sitting here with you both.
July 6, 2009 at 2:02 am
mirne
It doesn’t get easier. It doesn’t get better. Your heart just encompasses the pain more … your life adapts to your son’s death … you “become” a new person … you become a parent with a lost child, and you adapt your life to fit that new person.
July 6, 2009 at 9:38 am
Caitlin's Mom
It’s takes such a long time for every cell and every thought you have to know that your child is dead. And time seems the enemy because it takes you farther away from the life of your child. But, your last statement of not wiping away the tears makes me remember the same behavior. For me it wasn’t that I didn’t have the energy to wipe them away, but that my daughter deserved my tears and I deserved to grieve and honor her with my tears. Another bereaved mother said, “I don’t wipe away my tears.” Honoring your tears and your child with you. I am so sorry. Peace.
July 6, 2009 at 10:26 am
Nuwie
(((HUGS)))
July 6, 2009 at 12:42 pm
Erica
“He is gone but we are still here waiting for him.”
Just, yes.