Every Day

Every day. Every single day, I must complete the same routine to make others comfortable. I am the one left with the pain of the most significant loss one will ever experience and yet, I am the one that has to be considerate for others. I often ponder this and there are no answers. I understand that I do have to move through life, work, socialize and not wallow in my grief but why is it that I must hide my grief, my sadness?
Let’s start my day. The moment I wake, my first thought goes to my boys. Are they awake? Will they need breakfast? Are they sleeping in? And then…. I remember, one of my boys isn’t here and he will never be here on this earth again. The realization today is no different than it was two years ago or 6 months ago, it hits hard and I gasp to catch my breath. My eyes tear up and I take a moment to allow myself the time to cry and talk to you. I tell you I love you and that I miss you. Then for the sake of everyone, I must tuck my sadness and my grief away and pretend that I am fine and that I am managing. I must do this because I make people sad, this makes people uncomfortable and most people feel this is unfair to them. I wonder why it is, that the grieving mother must present to the world that she is strong and resilient in the face of her grief and why everyone cannot just allow her to feel how she needs to feel.
Sometimes, throughout my day, the thoughts of you surface and it does not matter where I am or what I am doing, tears will start to slowly travel down my face. Sometimes, I can make the entire day without this happening. However, as time moves forward, I am having more and more of these moments where my sadness surfaces.
I am grateful to those in my life that allow me to really just be who I am and where I am at the moment. Those who sit with me and let me speak endlessly of you when I can talk about you. Those who do more than a simple Facebook thumbs up on my posts – to all of you, I thank you. You being here in person, text or phone call – helps and I will say there are not that many of you. My circle is small and within my circle I have so much support.
As my day moves along, I start to dread nighttime. You won’t be here for dinner or playing your guitar and the quiet of the house, reminds me. This is when my sadness will again surface. Bedtime is the hardest, that window between consciousness and sleep, that is when I think of you most, that is when I remember your mannerisms, your humour…. everything about you. For these times, I must slow my brain or I will not sleep but rather I will plummet into a valley of grief in which I struggle to climb out of. So I medicate at night. This slows my brain and allows sleep to come to me. My last thought before sleep arrives, is that perhaps you will visit me.
Today, is one of those days, I woke as I described. I helped Brad as he got ready to leave for work and as I sit here working, tears are slowly running down my face. Today, I feel like leaving them just for the time. The tears are my love for you, the love that I can no longer give you and yet it remains and overflows until it runs out of my eyes. My love for you remains as it always will and I believe this is the reason I grieve so deeply. Where else can my love go?
I love you, Monkey and I miss you more.