So it's been 32 weeks now since you left, and 7 months yesterday since your burial.
Your stone is in place.
The grass is growing (mostly).
I bought a new car. I don't worry about nursing schedules, or meds orders, or finding places for your many supplies. I can just leave the house without making sure people are being cared for. That hasn't happened since Deborah was born almost 33 years ago. It's weird.
This morning as I lay in bed I thought about your room, what it looked like, how you used to be just on the other side of my wall. In my mind, I could still see you there. I could almost imagine it hadn't changed, but it has. It looks so different now with the couch and chair, the piano where your bed was. Your big cheeky smile on the picture in the corner, instead of grinning from your face in your bed while you play with your toys.
I stopped by your spot last night and walked around a bit. As I stood a little ways away, looking at the back side, it struck me yet again. "Beloved son of William and Rebekah Youngest brother of Deborah, Mary, David, Jonathan, Matthew, Joseph, Andrew and Michael"
And you're body is there, not here. And your soul lives in heaven.
I miss you.
I'm trying, really, I am.
I look back at your life. We packed so much into it! Your smiles, laughter. The joy you found in the little things: stories, songs, movies, being with people, just being. You enriched so many lives, made life possible for so many.
I sit still, let it in, the pain and comfort, the joy and sorrow, grief and love. It's hard, but I'm growing through it.
I don't grief ever truly leaves; I think it evolves. I mean, it would mean I didn't miss you and I always will.
You are etched into the walls of my heart.
I will keep moving forward, even if I feel lost.
Love,
Aaron
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