Happy Birthday

When my Joey made his transition to Heaven, I was left with unending pain, and a host of "firsts" that provide a mountain of thoughts and tears. Joey left on November 5th, 2019 - I stumbled through Thanksgiving, Christmas was Hell, then New Years, where I spent the entire day in bed crying. January 21st, his 35th birthday.... My heart continued to shatter as I remembered all his birthdays and the moment of his birth. Then came Easter - one of my favorite memories are Easter Sundays with both my boys.... oh how I miss those days.

Mother's Day, and the beautiful rose, dipped in gold he sent me last year, with a sweet little card that said "You are Loved"...again, the tears fall; 4th of July, where my Joey would "perform" and make everyone laugh till they cried - I cried this year, but it wasn't from laughing. Now, my birthday. I never expected MY birthday to be a trigger for such overwhelming emotion, but it is. I realize, I will never again hear "Happy Birthday Mom, I love you!" from my Joey. I expected the pain and heartache on all the holidays, I expected the overwhelming feeling of loss on his birthday, but what I didn't expect was this loneliness and heartache to intensify on MY birthday.

Losing my child is the worst pain I've ever experienced. I erroneously thought, I could deal with any emotional pain that hit me after the loss of my father...I was wrong. To you, on the outside looking in, you see a woman who experienced a traumatic loss, and you see how "well" I'm doing.... what you don't see, are the tears I cry when I'm alone, what you don't see is the all consuming anguish my heart holds each and every minute of each and every day. What you don't see, are the thoughts that jockey in my brain for a dominant position - guilt at not realizing what was happening always lands in the forefront of those thoughts. What you don't see, are the waves of pain that push me to my knees, my soul screaming for my son. You don't see those things, I hide those things because I am expected to be "better" by now, I am expected to continue on and not make others uncomfortable with my grief; I am expected to do my job, and care for my family - so I do. I do what must be done, but always, ALWAYS I am on the brink of falling totally apart....I am fragile, and while you don't see that fragility, it is there, and only one memory, or one reminder will push me over the edge.... so I fight, to keep my sanity and hold on. Everyday is a test for me...everyday I lose a bit more of the will to continue the fight.

I have determined that life is something we endure, it's not "what you make it" as some positivity gurus quote, it's not sunshine and rainbows; it is hard, and it is Hell when you lose your child.

I realize, as I write this, that my son has been gone almost as long as I carried him. Such joy waiting for his birth!!! I remember holding him for the first time and the power of love was revealed to me that day. The power of loss overtook me the day he left this earth. I will never be the same person I once was; the "bright side" doesn't exist anymore.

So, happy birthday to me....