I am standing somewhere noisy when all of a sudden a memory hits me and my heart freezes, breathing all but stops. The crowd becomes this surreal din of noise and I physically shrink in size while the colors of the room smudge together as the grief wave settles in. Lonely is the best way to describe it because right then, I am sure no one could feel such pain in their heart–right down to my muscles and bones.
It will subside but sometimes I want to hold onto it longer because it makes me feel closer to the child I lost. Since this grief has been going on for a while now, I carefully and gently nudge myself back to the living because that is where Charles would want me to be. He would want me to be happy and to find my way. He would want me to follow my passion.
Finding hope and joy again is an effort every day. It gets easier if that’s the word for it. Somedays the work is still so hard. My love for my son has become richer so following a path of finding hope and joy in the midst of the most devastating tragedy of my life, is essential. The other way leads only to bitterness and resentment. I just can’t live my life that way. and would be a disservice to my son that died, and the one that is alive.