654 days, 11 hours, 10 minutes and 9 seconds. That is approximately how long it has been since we last spoke. I can still here your voice and laughter. I remember every inch of your face. I will never forget and I will always miss you.
As the Holiday approaches I am trying to hold on! I want to scream. We always had a party on the 4th of July and you were always the ringmaster! I can still remember the first time we let you set off all of the fireworks. You were so proud, so grown up. Everyday I wish you were here. I hate that I just want Holidyas to go by quietly with no reminder of what has changed.
Other than missing Arthur, one of the hardest things I deal with is reinventing myself. It is hard to explain, but even though I have other children and we have the grandchildren, it is still very difficult to figure out who I am now. I am still a mom and a wife. But it is different. Maybe it is the need to fill the part of me that is missing. It could also be me searching desperately for anything to help me feel the Joy and contentment I used to. It is like watching a movie, a long suspenseful movie, and I have no idea how it will end. I am hoping for and lovely, happy ending. But I didn’t write the story so I feel I have no power to direct the story.
Losing a child is inconceivable for most people. A mother can never imagine the pain, until it happens. At first it is excruciating, raw horrific pain. There is nothing like it. No pain will ever compare. After a while the wound begins to heal. Never completely mind you, but just enough that you can move a little easier. The dull ache is there, always and for the rest of your life. I realize that I will never be the same. My heart, even though I have much to be grateful for, will never again be full. Joy will never be on the table for me again. Happiness and love always, but never joy, never again.
This moving forward thing is really hard. I believe for a moment I am ready. Ready to begin living life again, socializing and having something to look forward to. Then, just like that, it hits me in the face. Arthur is gone and he is never going to be splashing me in the pool or swim morning laps. We will never argue over who gets to mow this week or spend time planning his summer camp. Just when I think the list of things we will never do can’t get any longer, I am reminded of something to add to it. These are the times I get angry. Angry with those people that were not so nice to him. People that took advantage of his kindness and never saw him for the truly amazing young man he was. People that are going about their lives, spending time with their children, like nothing has changed. They have futures, hopes and dreams. We were robbed of all that with Artie. It is the harsh reality of child loss. The grief never truly goes away.