This weekend marks six years since I said goodbye to my sweet baby boy. I don’t remember a lot from the first couple months after he left us, things are quite blurry, and probably because I was just coasting. I floated through time feeling quite numb to everything because if I let myself accept it I was afraid I would just be crushed with grief. I remember the rest of that first year, knowing I would never be able to hold him, smell him, watch him, or hear him again. Struggling with the idea of leaving the house because everything around me reminded me of him. I remember not listening to music simply because I could relate most songs to him in some way. Mostly I remember the crushing feeling of knowing that him being gone could never be undone, he would never be with us again. In retrospect that first year went by just the same as any other year but it felt like forever.
As subsequent years went by it didn’t get easier, but the raw feeling of panic and grief had subsided into something more manageable. There is no recovering from losing a child, you can’t hold your child in your arms as he takes his last breath and not be a different person after. Watching your hopes and dreams drift away, and pain and sadness fill your heart. It hurts, a lot – and the pain will always be there. A piece of me is missing but I’d rather feel the pain than forget. Life goes on regardless and the pain remains, though it’s not as razor sharp as before.
Six years later when people ask me how many kids I have (which comes up in conversation more than you would think) I still hesitate when I answer. I have three kids. Two are here with me, and one has moved on. So this weekend, while I grieve my sweet boy who is no longer with us, please give your kids a little extra love and savour each moment you get to spend with them.
Jack and Connor with Zachary’s teddy, my loves…