What Six Months has Brought
Don't misunderstand, I haven't forgotten my son, or my pain. In fact, quite the opposite. Friday the 21st was the six month mark since Bug's passing. And I had planned this huge post about all the things that have happened in these past six months. But the more I thought about it, the less has happened. I still grieve everyday for my son. I still cry every night. I still pray to God that my son is safe in Jesus's arms and for the Lord to lessen our pain. I still can't empty his clothing drawers or go into my son's bedroom when it is dark. I can look at about 100 familiar photos of Shalebug and feel no pain. But if I look at any others with him in it, I fall into a pain that steals my breath away. And most importantly, I still love my son with the same ferocity I did the day he died.
So not a lot has changed. The startling truth is our lives have soldiered on without my bundle of love. His brother and sister still talk to him when they go to sleep, but they no longer cry for him. His grandparents still miss him, but they've moved on to focus on the kids who live. His aunts, uncles and cousins no longer talk about him, he is just a picture in their photo albums. All of these people loved Bug, but his loss hasn't altered who they are.
But my husband and I have morphed into two different people. The people we were before he died, have slowly withered away. That's not to say there aren't remnants and reminders of who we were. But our personalities have shifted, altered, just slightly enough that it is only noticeable to those who were really close with us.
How can it not? How does one carry this burden of pain everyday, and not change? For every smile we make, there are more tears to be shed. Every happy and joyous occasion is marred by the reminder of the little guy who is not here to share in the event. The six month mark brings with it a reminder of what I have lost and what I have gained. I lost my son and gained a sobriety to my personality that never existed before. And I can't see that changing. Because I can't figure out how to stop loving the little guy and stop missing him.
Perhaps if his death was expected or even explained. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much. Or would be easier to let go of. But I am still reeling by the suddenness of this loss and I find myself still floundering. Who is to say?
Six months have passed. I lost my son. But I retained a husband, rediscovered the joy of my other two kids, and kept my sanity. I got a job (which will be ending in a month,) and my new puppy arrives May 26. I found clarity with the friends and family who have stuck by me and peace with the ones who had to let me go. A new nephew joined our clan. We have managed to smile and laugh throughout, while remembering the boy who was.
In the end, I guess things have changed. Except for how much I love you Bug. That never will.