I sit in the dark… a lot! Sometimes, I think I am trying to make myself believe none of the things that happened actually happened. It is similar to an out-of-body experience. I see myself, but it is different. Almost make believe. But, it did happen. And, here I am… living the dream! Not in the context I would like…
How did I get here? Am I doing what is “normal” according to others? Is there a normal? I have been told I handled my situation (ie the loss of my son) with much grace. Not sure how true that is. I think there are times I pretend. I do this so I can get up and go to work each day, or hug my daughter and still be able to let go and let her leave my home. Maybe I do so I can play with my grandkids and not see how much he would have influenced his niece and nephew.
I am sure there is a coping mechanism that I cannot analyze, or need to analyze. Bottom line, I have to exist. In whatever form I take or methods that take over, I have to find reason to get out of bed every day. If not, I will die with my son. So, I choose life and memories.
Memories are something no one can take from you. We have ALL had bad things happen, misfortunes, loss. How we deal with those define us. No, we are not all weak, strong, or incapable. We are ALL survivors… of whatever misfortune was bestowed upon us. Trust me when I say this is not an overnight transition. It has been two and a half years plus for me and I am still trying to find my way. I am also hoping I am helping lead others to the path of “moving forward.”
I use that term kind of loosely “move forward.” We do not, and cannot, move on. We move forward. The child I lost is always ever-present in my life. I think that I needed to write this out to gain that perspective. I kept feeling like I was living outside my body and the motions I was going through were just that, motions. Feeling a little better calling it a “coping mechanism.” Still feels a little like a dream or, for a better word, “not real.”
Repeating what I have said in all of my posts, death will not change the love I have for my son. It will not take all the good things that happened while he was alive. It will not overshadow all the good things I have in my life. I miss him every single day. I hurt for the things I did not get to witness. Those things were never a guarantee. They were a wish. A dream. A hope. I have to learn to live with the fact they didn’t happen. But I can dream. I can close my eyes and think about what might have been. Had he lived. Had he gotten married. Had he had children. But those are just wishful dreams…
My real dream was that I had a son. A good son. A wild son. A redneck son. A son who liked beer. A son who liked music. A son who loved to sing in the shower. A son who did sing with a famous person onstage. A son who was a phenomenal mechanic. A son who took apart every vehicle he owned and left half the parts in the yard. A son who came home late and blared the tv. A son who slept at least eight hours a day, usually during daylight hours. But he was my son. My reality. He may be a memory to a lot of people, but in my heart, he is still my son. His heart will beat within me until mine stops beating.
Therapy. This is therapy. My out of body experience is a dream. Or a memory. I choose to not stop dreaming if this is the case. If this keeps my son alive in my heart and mind, so be it! You will catch me living this dream for a long time (I hope). As always, I cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here. Thank you for sharing my dream…
#livinthedeam #outofsightnotoutofmind #mysonlivesinme #thedashinthemiddle
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