A year has passed. A year. 365 days. Actually 366 as this past year was a leap year. My son was buried on leap day, February 29th. I wonder if it will make the pain a little lighter not having to relive that day but every four years? I somehow doubt it. I doubt that my pain will lessen in 10, 15 or even 20 years.
A year. I can’t believe I have lived this long without him. I don’t understand why, when I keep waking every morning, do I continue to walk through the welcoming day (damn that day!)
Living is coming easier. I don’t consciously think about the frailty of it as much as I used to. Smiling is starting to not feel so foreign, like wearing shoes you find at a thrift store.
Laughing. That was a tough one. It took me a long time to allow myself to genuinely laugh. I think the first time I really laughed, I was still in the hospital recovering from my injuries sustained in the car accident. My brother was visiting. I don’t remember what it was exactly that made me laugh so hard, but I do remember the anvil of guilt that fell out of the sky and hit me square on my heart. I didn’t laugh for a long time after that.
But loving, that’s what’s going to be an obstacle for me. I don’t mean the love you safely feel for friends and family. The love I’m having a tough time with is the giddy, warm and fuzzy feelings you feel when you fall madly in love. See, Blake was the love of my life. I was so in love with him. Telling him I loved him always brought tears to my eyes. To receive on of his slobbery kisses...Heaven. For the first time in my life, I truly understood what it meant to unconditionally love another human being. If I were upset with him about something, it was forgotten after the discussion was over. By discussion I mean me telling him, “let’s find something else to play with.” When he really, really wanted to walk to the car all by himself, I let him, unless we were late. You should have seen those alligator tears. If he refused to eat what I offered him, I stood him up on the counter and let him decide what he wanted on his own (always animal crackers!). Loving Blake came so natural, I never worried about whether or not he liked me. The sweet “Hi”’s that he greeted me with every morning said enough. And if I ever let him down...if I was late to the daycare center picking him up, he would express his feelings (usually crying at me or ignoring me for a few minutes)...I would apologize profusely and it was over. I tried very hard not to ever do it again.
I know now that I am capable of all the things I learned from Blake. My problem is: shouldn’t it only apply to Blake? Maybe that was one of the many lessons Blake was to teach me; how to love so immensely that it comes naturally and how to share that love. Blake probably wants that. I honestly don’t think he would have shared such a miracle with one and wanted me to bury it with him.
So in remembrance of my son, my Peanut, the first love of my life...I will let myself share the unconditional love Blake taught me, and fall in love...again.
“We do not do great things– only small things with great love.” - Mother Teresa
