I'm not sure if it's because Andrew is 8. Or because both of the boys are playing baseball this year. Or because of all the shit that's going on with my brother and his lovely (insert sarcasm font here) estranged wife. Or maybe it's the fact that Easter is just around the corner. But for any of those reasons - or for any other reason unmentioned - my nephew Christopher has been on my mind lately. A lot.
It's not that he isn't on my mind all the time. He is. All the time. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him at some point. Fortunately, I no longer cry every time I think of him. Typically a smile will cross my face. I do cry sometimes though. But more often than not, I smile. I think of the happier moments and I think of his bright sunshine-y smile. And I smile. Sometimes he takes my breath away though. I think about the fact that he's actually gone and I find myself pausing to catch my breath. And it isn't until after I've done that when I realize I had to do it. Sometimes it's those first few moments in the morning when I'm not yet really awake, but my mind is starting to come alive, and my eyes are still closed, that I think of him. It's that moment of semi-consciousness just before awaking ... that's when he shows up in my mind. And for the most part it's happiness with which my mind and heart are filled. Lately, it's been sadness, but usually it's happiness.
He also came to me in a dream last week. That's only the second time since the 2-1/2 years he's been gone that I've had that happen. I don't even remember what happened or why he was there in this particular dream. I remember only waking up and having seen his face. And his windswept, blond-from-the-sun hair like it was the last time I saw him on July 25, 2010. And he was smiling.
I read about other families' tragedies in the paper all the time and the first thing I think about isn't the suffering the child must have gone through before his or her death (I always try to block that out), but about the pain and heartache and sorrow the family must be feeling. The absolute isolation they must be feeling. I remember the morning after Christopher was gone, I went to the cabinet to take some medicine like I would do every morning. Then I thought -
I think about those moments when I read about families whose children have been lost tragically - either by accident or by the hand of another terrible person. Those are the days I would never wish on anyone.
Facebook is a wonderful, terrible thing. It really is. It's this monster that allows you to see things and know things that you shouldn't always see or know. The tragedy that befell Sandy Hook Elementary is so unspeakable. And one day a Facebook friend posted from another Facebook friend an "open letter" from a mother of a child who was lost during that tragedy. And man did I sympathize. That's a pain that never goes away. It never. Goes. Away. Ever. And one day that mother will feel a little better - a little less sad, maybe - but the pain in her heart will never go away. And I found myself crying after reading the letter. And I thought to myself then - you knew this was going to happen. You knew reading this letter wasn't going to bring you happiness. WHY did I sit there and read it?? Why?? Maybe I did so to justify my feelings or try to understand my brother's feelings? I don't know. For whatever reason, I sat there and I read it and then I cried. And then I swore I wasn't going to do that again.
There's some stupid shit going on in my family with my brother and his estranged wife. And it's terrible. It really is. I mean, it's good because my brother is finally happy(ier) again, but it's terrible. There's some information floating around out there in the community about my brother and about his wife that shouldn't be (welcome to Denton). And I found myself thinking - for the first time ever - thank God Christopher isn't here to see all this shit going down. I mean, really.
But then, I thought - you know, with all this terrible shit going down, wouldn't it be nice if my brother had his little buddy around to hang out with and talk to and play around with?
I often read some of my friends' posts on Facebook complaining about how their children are driving them crazy ... how they would love some peace and quiet ... how the homework hour at home has gotten ridiculous. And then I think - selfishly, albeit - man, what my brother would do to have his son to sit at the kitchen table and to help him out with his homework. What my brother would do to have the issue - how am I going to get my son to baseball when my other child needs to get to softball? And I know that isn't fair to project. But sometimes I don't think it's fair to have to read that shit either. It's tiring. And putting yourself in others' shoes before you bitch about your children may help you to understand how good you have it - even if from time to time they act like the devil (as mine have been known to do).
In just under 3 weeks we're taking the boys to San Diego to visit the Zoo and then up to Anaheim to Disneyland. And I know it's a little extravagant, but I know that my boys LOVE animals and the World-Famous San Diego Zoo is world famous for a reason. And if not now, when? And then I figure, while we're out there, we have to go to Disneyland. I mean, we can't be that close and not go to Disneyland. When are we going to go out west again??
But each time I make a reservation for a trip like this, in the back of my mind, the reservation is made for 5 instead of 4. In my mind, Christopher is on the trip with us, soaking in each sight we see. In my mind, Christopher is there watching the show on the plane with Andrew. He's on the safari ride with Davis. He's jumping off the diving board with both boys. He's there enjoying it all. The boys get these trips of a lifetime because Christopher deserves them too. And though it probably kills my husband, it's just the way I see things.
So this Easter I'm going to throw some eggs around the yard. I'm going to watch the boys (and Dexter!) look for them. And I'm going to love every minute of it. It's hoped, anyway.
It's not that he isn't on my mind all the time. He is. All the time. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him at some point. Fortunately, I no longer cry every time I think of him. Typically a smile will cross my face. I do cry sometimes though. But more often than not, I smile. I think of the happier moments and I think of his bright sunshine-y smile. And I smile. Sometimes he takes my breath away though. I think about the fact that he's actually gone and I find myself pausing to catch my breath. And it isn't until after I've done that when I realize I had to do it. Sometimes it's those first few moments in the morning when I'm not yet really awake, but my mind is starting to come alive, and my eyes are still closed, that I think of him. It's that moment of semi-consciousness just before awaking ... that's when he shows up in my mind. And for the most part it's happiness with which my mind and heart are filled. Lately, it's been sadness, but usually it's happiness.
He also came to me in a dream last week. That's only the second time since the 2-1/2 years he's been gone that I've had that happen. I don't even remember what happened or why he was there in this particular dream. I remember only waking up and having seen his face. And his windswept, blond-from-the-sun hair like it was the last time I saw him on July 25, 2010. And he was smiling.
I read about other families' tragedies in the paper all the time and the first thing I think about isn't the suffering the child must have gone through before his or her death (I always try to block that out), but about the pain and heartache and sorrow the family must be feeling. The absolute isolation they must be feeling. I remember the morning after Christopher was gone, I went to the cabinet to take some medicine like I would do every morning. Then I thought -
"am I supposed to do this? Am I supposed to keep going on like this - normally? Am I supposed to go on with my normal routine when all I can feel is sadness??"
I think about those moments when I read about families whose children have been lost tragically - either by accident or by the hand of another terrible person. Those are the days I would never wish on anyone.
Facebook is a wonderful, terrible thing. It really is. It's this monster that allows you to see things and know things that you shouldn't always see or know. The tragedy that befell Sandy Hook Elementary is so unspeakable. And one day a Facebook friend posted from another Facebook friend an "open letter" from a mother of a child who was lost during that tragedy. And man did I sympathize. That's a pain that never goes away. It never. Goes. Away. Ever. And one day that mother will feel a little better - a little less sad, maybe - but the pain in her heart will never go away. And I found myself crying after reading the letter. And I thought to myself then - you knew this was going to happen. You knew reading this letter wasn't going to bring you happiness. WHY did I sit there and read it?? Why?? Maybe I did so to justify my feelings or try to understand my brother's feelings? I don't know. For whatever reason, I sat there and I read it and then I cried. And then I swore I wasn't going to do that again.
There's some stupid shit going on in my family with my brother and his estranged wife. And it's terrible. It really is. I mean, it's good because my brother is finally happy(ier) again, but it's terrible. There's some information floating around out there in the community about my brother and about his wife that shouldn't be (welcome to Denton). And I found myself thinking - for the first time ever - thank God Christopher isn't here to see all this shit going down. I mean, really.
But then, I thought - you know, with all this terrible shit going down, wouldn't it be nice if my brother had his little buddy around to hang out with and talk to and play around with?
I often read some of my friends' posts on Facebook complaining about how their children are driving them crazy ... how they would love some peace and quiet ... how the homework hour at home has gotten ridiculous. And then I think - selfishly, albeit - man, what my brother would do to have his son to sit at the kitchen table and to help him out with his homework. What my brother would do to have the issue - how am I going to get my son to baseball when my other child needs to get to softball? And I know that isn't fair to project. But sometimes I don't think it's fair to have to read that shit either. It's tiring. And putting yourself in others' shoes before you bitch about your children may help you to understand how good you have it - even if from time to time they act like the devil (as mine have been known to do).
In just under 3 weeks we're taking the boys to San Diego to visit the Zoo and then up to Anaheim to Disneyland. And I know it's a little extravagant, but I know that my boys LOVE animals and the World-Famous San Diego Zoo is world famous for a reason. And if not now, when? And then I figure, while we're out there, we have to go to Disneyland. I mean, we can't be that close and not go to Disneyland. When are we going to go out west again??
But each time I make a reservation for a trip like this, in the back of my mind, the reservation is made for 5 instead of 4. In my mind, Christopher is on the trip with us, soaking in each sight we see. In my mind, Christopher is there watching the show on the plane with Andrew. He's on the safari ride with Davis. He's jumping off the diving board with both boys. He's there enjoying it all. The boys get these trips of a lifetime because Christopher deserves them too. And though it probably kills my husband, it's just the way I see things.
So this Easter I'm going to throw some eggs around the yard. I'm going to watch the boys (and Dexter!) look for them. And I'm going to love every minute of it. It's hoped, anyway.