The most frustrating part of the experience of losing a child, is it changes who you are. Whether you needed changing or not. I liked me, I felt I was a complete person. I liked my children. And I loved who my honey grew into. The type of father he became. I genuinely felt blessed. I thanked God regularly. And I (privately of course) sneered down at other families who just didn't seem to get it.
And now, we have to start all over. Reidentify ourselves. Not just me, but Fric and Frac as well. They attend a very small school. Before they were known as the blond kids who played kick-ass soccer. The blonde kids who had a mom who always managed to spill her coffee, no matter what, no matter where. The blonde kids who had a handicapped brother. And now, they are the blonde kids whose brother died.
My hubs and I have been struggling to explain the randomness of life. The big mystery of it. But words can't take away their pain. Their confusion. They have been through so much, gave up so much already just to be siblings to such a special boy.
I see their frustration. I understand it. And my heart breaks for them.