The Fourth Birthday - a letter to my son

It has been 4 birthdays now that we have been missing you.  4 birthdays wondering what you would be doing, really WHO you would be, why the F*&K you had to go, and often what YOUR children might have looked like.  You would be 27 today.  Usually on these special days, like today , the day that MADE me a mother, I am able to identify a prevalent feeling – absurd, heart rending amounts of grief and sorrow are usually at the top of the list and that is still going on as a daily thing, but this year, today, my highest formed feeling is anger.  I am so pissed! I am angry that there are some people on the planet with me who really don’t deserve to be here if you are not.  I am angry that I have to deal with so much ridiculous stuff when one of my smart beautiful sons is gone, and I am pissed that we missed out on so much stuff that should be the stories we would tell the grandchildren.  Our family history.

Rye - 16, Reed - 9 and Zelda dog.

I have been angry before this, right after you passed,  but I don't remember it being to this level, that it went above the sorrow and soul stealing grief, nor that it was the feeling I was most aware of. Maybe it did and I just blocked it out then.  Screaming at the sky helps for a few minutes, but not long.  Crying, writing and raging get some of it out but near your birthday it creeps back way more quickly than at other times of the year. 

“Speak to people with love in your voice, so that their name is safe in your mouth, and that if they passed on tomorrow they would feel that love and know that the last thing you said to them was an affirmation of love and uplifting.  That they may rise.” ~LH 2020~

I have had a lot of reflection on my last words to you and it has been such a blessing that our family habit with each other was that we always said “I love you” before we left each other, or before we hung up the phone.  I remember clearly standing on the middle deck as you and Reed were getting ready to go, less than 24 hours before you died, and shouting down to you both “I Love You”!  I remember what you both were wearing and that stupid silver jacked up truck that made so much noise, and the sun that was shining, and the light breeze that was blowing.  Above all I remember the I love you.  My last words to you and yours in return.

This is a birthday photo that we got after you died - not sure who to credit.  I think it was a 21 year celebration of your birthday!

I struggle still with overwhelming sorrow almost daily, sorrow that takes my breath away, and this week, especially this day, this vicious anger mixed in with the sorrow that steals the little joys of the day, and robs me and everyone around me of kindness unless I work really hard at reminding myself of it.  I WILL be a nice lady.

I have lots of people who really care, who knew you and loved you, and who help me get through the weeks and these hard days without you!  Thank you Kim Blake @ Kimmie's Floral for the blessing in my week.

I struggle with feeling the joy and allowing it without you here.  Would it be ok if life held magic once again?  If I could once more dance in the rain and feel the joy?  To feel safe on my feet and solid on the earth?  Is it a lie or a betrayal to want that so badly all while being cut to my soul and broken with the grief of your loss? The saying goes “that which does not kill us makes us stronger”.  I am not dead but I do not feel strong either.  That which does not kill us simply does not kill us I think…most of the time…I hope.

You have once again gained some angel friends this year, some who chose and some who didn’t, and we light a candle and say some blessing words to you, to the Goddess, and to them.  I have called out to you for help…. To love, to tolerate, to have patience and strength, to discover the why of all of this madness, to send me a sign of your presence,  and for you to welcome the newest angels there with the open arms that you always welcomed them with here.  Arms wide, smile broad.

Reed came in wearing your Ed Hardy the other day and it stopped me in my tracks.  The signature smell of you as a grown up – and now of him all grown up.  He will be 20 in March – but you know that, just like you know that I struggle with letting him be a grown up, and live on his own, and drive a car and ride a snow machine, and not live in a padded room or be a “bubble boy”!   I know that you laugh about it, just like you did when you were here and I can hear you mock me "Don't be at it" when I get to over the top with my over protection of him.  "Bad Boys for Life"!  "All Bad Mom!" and it makes me smile - and try a little harder not to "bubble boy" your brother too.

This is really Reed in the bubble!  I didn't put him there though, he did that his "own self"!  This time!

 I listen to the song of the day and I try to hear the messages being sent.  Some days I “get it” and some days I just don’t but I am always glad for the song.  The song that drowns out the screaming that continues in my brain most of the time, the song that can make me cry or help me to stop crying, and the song that keeps me from driving into the light.  I am glad for the messages from you however they appear.  Quarter, dime, penny – not very many nickels for some reason – and the songs.   The lights going on and off, and the radio or playlist changing …..magically.  I know that was you.

Happy 27th Birthday Rye - My sweet Bugman!  Happy 4th Heavenside Birthday.  I hope the party with the angels is amazing.  You are so loved and so missed here Earthside. 

I Love You!