Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Daren's Letter - March 19, 2013

Hello Honey: 

Bit by bit, little by little, the grief takes over.  I wake up in the morning and work my way through the day.  I put one foot in front of the other and listen as I hear myself speak.  I feel my smiles spread and hear laughter that I claim as my own.  I think of you hundreds of times a day and with each pain, I swallow it away; bury it down inside me.  There are so many memories that create that pain.  I know that one day those same memories will make me smile, but right now, your loss is still so new. 

I was just getting able to breathe again after losing your dad.  It had been a year, and I had walked through a lot of my memories of him.  I had watched the changing of the seasons; winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to fall and fall back to winter once again.  Each season brought with it a bundle; memories that floated to the surface like steam from a hot tub.  I'd relive the events that had given birth to those memories and would feel the knife of grief twist a little in my heart.  Just part of the grieving process I told myself.  I knew it would never stop, for after all, I had loved him for fifty years and would probably only have another twenty to make my way through all my recollections of those times.  But I could do it, if for no other reason than I had you and your siblings who I needed to live on for, to smile for, to laugh for.

And now my boy, you are gone.  I had loved you for forty-five years, one month and 18 days.  Forty-five years, one month and 18 days worth of memories.  I have started the seasons once again.  Winter to spring. 

But my darling boy, I would do it all again.  I would go through this period of pain to have had you in my life for that time, for I cannot fathom my life without you.  To not have had my time with you, is something I cannot even imagine.  There was such a tremendously amount of wonderful in my being your mom. 

The hurt builds up inside me.  Each time I can't hear you say "I love you, Mom", or hear your laugh, or have you tell me your dreams or schemes, causes the pressure of the volcano to build until a day like today comes and it erupts, leaving me shaking and torn. 

So I sit down and write you a letter.  It's my way.  Remember the dreaded letters I use to write to you and your siblings.  When I had become upset by something one of you did I would write you a letter and usually leave it on your pillow.  I wasn't stupid honey.  If I wrote you, you couldn't argue with me. So I write you now honey.  I write you to tell you I love you, I miss you, I forgive you, and i'm so glad you are my son.

Take care of your dad for me until I'm with you again.

I love you honey.


1 comment:

  1. If you are able to attend - I will be speaking on Grief/Blame in Utah County on April 9th at 7:00 PM - Here is the invitation (It's free)