Absence Doesn't End

Dear Aaron,

I saw something today that really resonated with me.

Death is a singular event, a one time thing. Absence goes on. 

When you died (okay, that still seems so hard to say!), the world did stop and mourn with us. 

But you didn't die again, that had happened. So the world started up again and moved on. 

But you were still gone.

And you are still gone. Now it's absence. 

You left me on December 23rd and I have woke up 301 days since then without you, and I will again and again and again. To days and weeks and months and even years without you, times that you are not part of. Your absence stays. It's the hole in my heart, the silence in the house.

Your stone is so beautiful, so perfect. I saw it tonight, lit up in the lengthening shadows. I could not ask for anything better for your spot. But it is still a poor substitute for you. Your smile is brilliant but static. There is no laughter. And granite is cold and hard, unyielding. 

Yesterday Jeremy came to see you in heaven. I woke to his mother trying to find words to describe the impossible, unthinkable. I'll always remember the two of you at Heather's daughter's wedding reception. She was nurse to both of you and you guys knew she loved you, but honestly, who didn't? You are both warriors and we are so blessed to have had you. And now Bambie has joined this awful, horrible club that no one ever wants to be part of. He was 11 months younger than you, and lived almost 10 months after you moved on. And her mornings of waking without him have just begun. 

Oh, Aaron, I miss you so much! Each morning starts without you, and each day ends without you. Coming home from work, especially on Fridays, is so hard. But I'll keep doing it. Because somehow, even without you here, the world keeps turning. 

And it's better for you having been here.

I love you, my son.

Love,
Mama

“The heart will break, but broken live on.”

- Lord Byron