Where he lived…

I recently crossed the seven and a half year threshold of how long my son has been gone. On that day, I sat reading posts of where I was at that month’s marker, then one year later, and so on. I realized as I read these posts and reflections, I don’t want to live where he died, or to live in the time in which he died. I want to live in the places and times he lived!!

This explains why I didn’t put a cross on the side of the road where he wrecked. So many times, I drive down the highway and I see a wooden cross on the roadside representing a person who died there. Sometimes, they are covered in flowers or have stuffed animals leaning against the cross. This may be the family members “coming to terms with death,” but, every time I see these crosses or displays of “love and loss,” I relive a death. I don’t want to relive a death. I want to relive a life! I want to go where my son lived and feel as if he would still really enjoy being there. It could be a trip into the garage (where he spent a lot of time) or around a campfire, or in the mud, or just listening to music.

One tradition my husband and I have started is taking a vacation or a long weekend on or around the “death” anniversary each year in August. We call it the “Watch This, Hold My Beer” vacation. We try to go and do things Cody would have loved and know he is with us in spirit. The first one we took was on the two-year anniversary. I can tell you, the common thing we asked each other was “What would Cody do?” We went zip-lining, walked across the “Sky Bridge” and drank a beer (hard cider for me, but close enough for this wino). I think doing this every day for the rest of my life would be even better.

Those who knew Cody knew he loved working on cars and trucks, getting muddy, being outside around a bonfire, hunting ANYTHING, and music. There are so many ways I can “live” for Cody every single day from now until we meet up again. That is what I want to do. I want it to be a part of my every day life, and truly, I believe, already is. I live every day for his sister and his niece and nephew. They are my life too. I can encompass all of them together. I know his niece (who never got to meet him) knows who he is. That is my goal for anyone who never got to meet him.

As I sit here thinking about ‘living’ for Cody, I realize I do that for all of the family I have lost, and I didn’t even realize it. It must be a coping mechanism I didn’t fully analyze until now. Lately, every time I open my mouth for any kind of encouraging words of advice, my mother seems to comes out. She was the best at spinning the positives. That is what I feel I am trying to do, spin the positive. Live and not die all over again, and again, and again. I want to remember and provide stories and memories to others still living about my brothers and parents… and my son: share lots of stories (over and over again!), turn the radio up louder than usual when a song comes on that they would have liked or that talks about our loved ones in Heaven, laugh at the stories that embarrass me or makes them look silly (my mother is in quite a few of those and she owned them with pride). If I write them all down, it could be a good book to read, or an even better sitcom. Trust me when I say, stories involving my brothers sound made-up, but they are not!

Life matters, even after we die. I have mentioned before, my brother Steve said people die twice:once when they stop breathing and then when they are no longer remembered. I don’t want to forget any of them. Ever. Every life is important. It doesn’t matter how long they were here: one minute, one hour, a few years, or a few decades. What matters is we never forget them. Never stop talking about them. Never stop sharing stories. Live where they lived, not where they died. I share my son’s story of his death twice a month to a court-ordered group of individuals, but I also share his life! I don’t want them to die where he died, but to live and enjoy life where he lived. If my son did anything, he lived to enjoy life. Period. I never want to forget that. I may cry because he is gone, but I smile because he was here.

#forever24 #livewherehelived #gonebutnotforgotten #thedashinthemiddle