Living Without You

Sweet boy. 

I'm doing it. 

I'm starting to learn to live without you. (How is that possible?)

But I am.

It doesn't mean that I don't miss you, not for a minute! It doesn't mean I'm not still heartbroken. But I didn't break down yesterday. I still might today. I did cry yesterday, just not the body shaking, soul wracking sobs that so often overwhelm me. 

I was able to let your wheelchair, lift and carseat go yesterday. Oh. . .  That was rough.  

I still don't want to get out of bed and I've avoided going into your room, but that part might be changing. I can consider taking down your bed although that's just a thought right now. Actual actions will be much harder.  I can smile through the tears, at least sometimes. 

I carry the stone heart with me everywhere, all the time. I place it on the nightstand each night, and put it back in my pocket in the morning when I get up. But I don't spend hours clutching it, rubbing it, using it to ground me every day anymore. The first week or more, it was in my hand more than my pocket. Now, it's more of a comfort, a security object that I pull out and hold tight from time to time but mostly just need to have close. 

People ask how I'm doing and I say, "okay, mostly" and it's "mostly" true. 

I look through pictures of you and the early ones make me smile. The ones from December 23rd bring tears anyway. I don't think that part will ever change. But at the same time, I will treasure them forever. 

I still don't know how it is that you are gone though. How did your heart stop? And mine keep going? 

Still miss you, kiddo. And I will until we're together again. 

"Healing is not an overnight process.
It is a daily cleansing of pain, it is a daily healing of your life."

Leon Brown