With the anniversary of Konnor’s death and the holidays approaching it is a normal part of the grieving process for my mind to revisit the events of last year.
My blogs have been a part of my healing process and I felt compelled to try to put into words what I had been through. I wanted to be able to share my journey with others who may have traveled down a similar path. I’m glad that I have. Others traveling the same path in grief have contacted me in private to tell a personal story closely related to my own. That was my purpose, to share my experience and to let other’s know that they are not alone. Grief has a way of making you feel more alone than you will ever experience in your life. But we are not.
It was my hope that once I put the experience of what I went through on paper, finally exposing myself, my thoughts and my struggles, I would heal. Once released, like our loved ones laid to rest, I could come to terms with what happened and move forward. Once again I was wrong. Just as the memory of Konnor and his death comes to the surface with his anniversary, so does the feelings of loss and fear and pain and everything that goes with it.
When Konnor died my children and I tried really hard to be supportive of each other. To let each other know how much we meant to each other. There were so many “I love You’s.” So much checking on each other. But then it just got harder, the calls spaced out a little more. Because as I said before, none of us wanted to hurt the other by starting a conversation that may cause the other one to cry. Healing was a priority but only time could heal us.
It isn’t just the DEATH. It was the aftermath. The whole emotional mess I was in because of everything that followed. The long complicated recovery. I feel safe to say that it may be only a month or two that I have been able to call myself “stable” emotionally. To be honest the anniversary and the remembering is a scary thought process that I fear may set me back a few paces. I may need a little time to gather myself as most grievers do I suppose.
The holidays will never be the same. Ever. We will have to find joy in them of course. But every single year that Konnor is missing we continue to mourn. We will remember him. But we will ache.
I don’t know, I don’t have all the answers. I try really hard to believe that there is a reason for everything and that there is good in everyone. I search for ways to recover so I can find joy in what life I have left. I want to love my children and laugh with them. I want to see the beauty in this world beyond the ache.
I’m not going to pretend that the Holiday’s are not painful. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not missing Konnor. I can’t act like I don’t remember everything that happened last year. It is embedded in my heart and in my memory. Yet I know we will get through it together.