Tuesday, July 6, 2010

On My Grief:

I don’t know if it is the fact that it was so unexpected, or that it was my child, but I had expected to find it a little easier by now.

My son was killed in a car accident on the evening of July sixth, eleven years ago.

He sat in the back seat of a car leaving an ice cream stand. They hadn’t gotten more then 200 feet when hit head on by a van. They were covered with uneaten ice cream and blood.

The driver survived because she had an air bag. And doctors worked on her for days to keep her alive. The front seat passenger and my son, seated behind the driver, died on impact.

He had a closed casket because his head was unrecognizable. He was twenty-five years old.

The terror filled nightmares have all but stopped. I haven’t gotten a mysterious coin in a while. I don’t break down weeping any longer at an unexpected song, turn of phrase, or look-a-like as I move about the world.

But a stinking hot day can still break me down.

We withered in the heat of a heat wave at our separate locations, as we talked briefly that day on the phone, about a TV program scheduled for that night. He stopped me as we closed to tell me, ‘that I Must Understand, that he Really Loved Me.’ Something he never did with costumers in earshot. It was all ‘Dido’ and ‘Yeah, same here’ when he was at work.

Having the time after work and before the program, he and some friends went for a swim at a local swimming hole, then stopped for ice cream on the way home.

I got a call a few hours later and didn’t get home from the hospital until almost five in the morning. I stood, in shock, doing yoga exercises to get centered before making the phone calls to tell his sister and the rest of the family that the sky had indeed fallen and that nothing would ever be the same in the world again.

Today it is stinking hot and I am reliving the worst day of my life and it doesn’t get any easier.



I'm sorry.

Ma Teakettle said...

I read, then reread, then read your post to my husband, and we agreed that is just so very very sad, my dear friend. I have no wisdom or advice to give, as I can just imagine that you have heard it all and still your heart remains broken. I will say this, you are so strong and a testament to those of us who have no idea what you have dealt with and felt deep in your heart, that you can watch the sky fall and not fall with it. I love you for being so strong and for being you, my friend in the blogland.

I am sending hugs, on this hot stinking day, and thank you for sharing yourself and your boy with us....now I get the mittens :)

Ma Teakettle

Mouse said...


spyderkl said...

I can't imagine how it would ever get easier. Maybe someday, I hope.


rabbitIng said...

I cannot imagine your pain, but I share your sadness. love, hugs

whitey said...

My heart breaks for you.

Silvia said...

I found your blog last week during a random search. I was going from blog to blog trying to find something new and different that what I am usually interested in. When I came across yours I was immediately drawn in. I am in shock at your honesty and openness about your loss. It is inspiration born from a horrible tragedy. Thank you for sharing your heart and your pain. I don't know what it's like to lose a son. I have one myself and I can only imagine that it is something a mother never gets over. I hope that you continue to find ways to cope each day. I hope it is ok for me to post this comment, since I am just a stranger.