Company

 

I had company yesterday (more than Jaden, who's here every Saturday). A young woman from the Cañon City park came by to spend time with me. She was kind & didn't make me talk about things that would make me cry.

Amtgard may never again be a weekly thing I'm able to do, no matter how much I miss our friends & that connection with fellow nerds. It still hurts too much. It's still too much you to take in at once. I still look for you on every ditch line, in every picture anyone posts of any event.

There are times when I'm okay. When the tears aren't right under the surface. Yesterday was a day like that, it's too early to know if today will be. We did notice at lunch yesterday that it felt like we stopped doing anything, that it felt like we were waiting for something, what we have no idea. The other shoe to drop? You to not be dead? To find out how you died? At any rate, we know there isn't anything to wait for & we're attempting to get back to our normal life - as normal as it can be now.

Kurt almost died at Salt Wars, Dad was the med-o-crat & couldn't do much but watch him turn blue & get ready to trach him. I stayed in the tent & cried, I couldn't do it, couldn't be there when another of our boys died. Thankfully he got help soon enough & a day in ICU saved him and he's on the road to getting the assistance he needs. But. Yeah.

3 Weeks

 

3 weeks. Maybe in 3 years or 3 decades I'll finally stop feeling like you're going to text me, call me or walk through the door. Maybe I'll stop thinking I can do something to change it, to make you come back. Maybe I won't have that haunted look in my eyes. Maybe I'll have stopped wondering what you would've been like in your 30s, 40s and 50s, or if you'd have ever had kids or gotten married.

Maybe someday I won't hate Fridays anymore.

A New Life, Just Begun

 

Mark & Sarah's little boy was born 2 days ago, they named him Ullric Hammond. He's very cute.

I had a little bit of a meltdown yesterday evening, and cried until I couldn't anymore, some days I get through okay & others I cry my way through. On almost all of them though I feel like I'm just going through the motions, trying to get through it to another day further from the pain. Tomorrow is 3 weeks, and a lifetime.

This week I vary between no hunger, starving & nausea if I eat anything. I have no way of telling if it's an illness of grief, it just is. It's how life is right now.

I often wonder if you had any idea at all of the number of lives you touched & how many people loved you & are missing you, now. I wonder if knowing would have made a difference in how you lived your last year. I know it's pointless for me to think about it, but at the same time, it's made me realize how much I matter to people around me & it is changing how I live my own life.

So many stupid, petty things just don't even matter anymore. 

What You'll Never See

 

Another day. 24 more hours. I keep breathing & living through the pain. I remember how you & I used to wonder what changes we'd see in our lifetimes, always assuming you'd see things that I wouldn't, with that being the natural course of events in life. It wounds me to know that I will now see new things that you won't. That things will change that we should have seen & discussed together & now you will be the silent half of that conversation. I'll never get to know what you think about anything again.

I used to feel like I didn't have enough years left in my life to make a difference, to do all of the things I wanted to do.. Now those years seem vast, knowing you won't be in them. I know I'll survive, I know in time the pain won't be as fresh, as sharp, as overwhelming, I hope, too, that the thought of my remaining years, spent without one of my kids won't be so panic-causing with enough time & healing.

For now, dad & I accept that we will never be the people we were before 1:47pm on May 8, 2015, but we are still here & we have to keep living & moving forward, so we actively seek out the normal moments where we find them.

A Sister's Pain

 

I talked to Rhi yesterday. Her first sentence was almost overwhelming, "I've been dreading this call, because I knew I'd cry." It's not that she's embarrassed to cry in jail or feels like it makes her a target, it's because (& I've felt this a lot, too) she doesn't want people to say, "let me know if I can do anything," because we all only want one thing & no one can bring you back. The only other thing Dad & I could ask for (& probably Rhi, too) is to not hurt like this anymore, and they can't do that, either.

The GoFundMe that Dea started for us raised enough to pay for your cremation, so we paid that back to Grandma Jeanie this morning, now we just keep waiting.. For your ashes, for your death certificate, to know how you died, if we never know why.

I miss you, kid. I've missed you so much since you graduated, you'd think I'd be used to it. This time is different. This time I know you won't be coming through the door ever again. I don't think any amount of time is ever going to make that hurt less.

Salt Wars

 

I haven't posted in a few days, we were traveling to & from Salt War & your memorial for them. It was cold and rainy, but the site was beautiful, you'd have loved it so much. It reminded me of the place we used to go Uprising at. Your knight isn't handling your passing well & I wish I could reach out & help her, but I'm not sure how or what to say or do, sometimes I feel like I'm being judged for whatever I seem to be feeling or not feeling. I don't know, but I'm sure the only pain I can manage right now is my own.

It rained pretty much all day, every day, until Sunday. Kurt nearly died on Friday night/Saturday morning. He had a near-fatal asthma attack & had to be intubated & rushed to the ER, where he was admitted to the ICU. After they handled his breathing, they found out he was nearly kidney failure from dehydration, as well. He was discharged on Sunday, after we had headed home.

The memorial was beautiful, so many people spoke of you with fondness & love, so many tears. You are (and always will be) missed to the core of all of us. Agard & Bruff closed it out by singing & playing "Wagon Wheel," on guitar & mando, while everyone there sang along - you'd have loved it.

Bella. She thought she heard you fighting the ditch line on Saturday, she got so excited - barking her crazy yipping bark, wagging her whole body, only to see it wasn't you. She sleeps with us, coming back upstairs to guard me after her breakfast if I'm still in bed, just like she always did with you.

I guess I've had my morning cry, now time for the business of everyday - food. Shower. Bills. Groceries.

The Grief of a Father

 

Dad had to come home from work today. He fell apart & started crying. I know how that is, I've had a lot of those days this week, when the wave of remembering & missing you crashes into me so hard I can't breathe or do anything but cry. People asking if they can do anything is the worst, there are only two things either of us want; to have you not dead or to not feel this way anymore. You're never coming back & the only thing that will lessen the pain is time, no one can give us those things.

We did get a lot done. The car is packed, we'll sleep a bit & head out early. At least we can fall apart there & no one will judge us in any way.