The “first” holiday I faced a year ago…
Everybody handles death a little different. Those who have not had a strong faith base do not know what to think. They believe in angels and that is ok. They believe their loved one has gone to heaven to wait for them and that is ok. What they don’t know is why and that haunts them. They are sad because their loved one have left this Earth. What I wish for those individuals is that they find joy in the fact they were ever here on Earth! This is where my faith jumps in full-force. We are all temporary for this Earth. I have a vision in my head and they are happy, healthy, and without pain. They have joined other loved ones and that gives me peace.
I know several families who have lost a child. One family was able to pass a bill in the State of Illinois dictating how colleges and universities respond to students who come for counseling for depression! Their son committed suicide after speaking to counselors and the school could not inform the parents because he was over 18. Big kudos to that family for trying to prevent this outcome for other parents.
Another family started a foundation in their child’s name and does pro-bono legal work for military families! Those receiving families see miracles happen in the name of love.
Me, I write! This started with my poems on Facebook. Then I had posted my growth and epiphanies along this journey over the past year and, I must say, it has been therapeutic! For me, anyway.
This is the second time for the first holiday. Labor Day weekend this time last year was a blur. I had went back to work, although I was in a fog still. I needed to be busy. Everyone was starting to go back to their “normal” lives. My life would never be the same. I was still sitting up at night waiting for the garage door to open. I hadn’t been to his room much, but I knew it was coming. It had to. The smell of his work clothes had started spreading. I actually was looking forward to doing his laundry this time and sad at the same time. It would be the last time…
I have come a long way in this year. I still want to yell at him from the top of the stairs. I can. It won’t hurt. I want to yell at him to turn down his music, or to turn the tv off, or to get his ass out of bed. I want it to seem normal again. If he were here next to me, he’d make fun of me. I am ok with that. That would be another normal for me.
Find the joy! Spread the love! Remember the sounds. Enjoy the memories.