How has it been 8 weeks?

I opened my computer to maybe work on schoolwork for a few minutes while I wind down before bed…but instead, I find myself here. Writing to you.

It has been 8 weeks already. I don’t like thinking about that. I started crying recently when I noticed that the shelves I put up with some of your things, your ashes, and pictures of you were already gathering dust.

You have been gone long enough that items I put up after you were taken from me have started collecting dust.

I cried when I noticed.

I cried as I dusted everything.

Grief is definitely a bitch, but can she at least be a little LESS of a bitch? The rapid shifts in my emotions make this much harder, and I wonder if it makes things harder for those around me.

I was told it was okay to write to the truck driver from that night. I got permission and I know his name and address. I haven’t done it yet, though. I know it will be hard to do. Even harder than writing all of these. They told me that he was the one who called 911. That he saw it happen. He jumped out of his truck and ran to you as fast as he could. He did CPR while he waited for paramedics to get there. The fact that a truck driver was there with you at the end is bittersweet. A truck driver like grandpa. You know how much grandpa loves you.

I decided to keep your truck. I know your sister is upset, and I hope she doesn’t hate me too much. But the more I have looked at it sitting in my driveway…I just can’t let it go. I want to fix it. I want to have it ready by the time your baby brother is ready to start driving. He misses you so fucking much. I did promise her that I would give it to her if he decides that he doesn’t want to drive a truck. And I will keep that promise. Your friends will still help fix it, just like they were going to do for you. I’ll buy parts…they will fix it. I want to help. I want to get my hands dirty on it. Jeremy wants to see if he can coax Carter to help. I think that is a fantastic idea.

Fuck. I just miss you so much. I miss our talks. Even though you sometimes drove me nuts with how much you talked. And I thought I talked a lot… You had so many dreams. Dreams for your career and the business that you swore you’d someday start. Your life with Rory. Your future. I grieve for you, but I also grieve for that life. The life you didn’t get to have. I grieve for Rory. And the life she didn’t get to have with you. I know she will be okay. She is amazing. You know that. That is why you were devastated when you two broke up for a while. And why you worked so hard to fix things. But I also know you want her to be happy, and I know she will someday find happiness again. I will be so happy for her when that happens. I want to see that for her; I know you do too.

I have so much I wish I could tell you right now. I have something I want to tell you that I can’t tell you on this fucking computer. I know you would understand and support me too. Rory knows. She even says you guys joked about it before. She says you’d have been supportive, and I know you would have too because I know you loved me and just wanted to see me happy. You know everything I had been through.

I am so happy that you could find happiness again before you were taken. You found your Aurora again. Your true love. You and your dad were good again. And you and mom pt 2. You were able to get close to your siblings. Find a little peace over that asshole situation. You know the one. I know Jeremy was a big help to you on that. Rory too.

I don’t know what to do without you. I know that they say that grief never goes away. That you merely learn how to cope. That you learn how to love again. I am sure that is true. I know other mothers have learned to survive after losing their children. I just don’t understand how they do it. I have read those articles about one spouse dying not long after the other and they say that they died of “broken heart” and that now makes complete sense to me. My heart feels so completely shattered that I am trying to understand how I am currently still alive. How is it even still beating right now? How can the human heart be this broken…be this compressed…and still function? But yet, I still have to find a way to survive. I have to find a way to wake up every day, go to work, pay bills, do the daily things, take care of your brother and make sure he is okay, and any other random ass thing that comes up.

Your brother isn’t okay. Sometimes he is. I guess. But he is really struggling. Last week was hard. The second half of this week was better. He even randomly googled your name today and found the news article about you. He said he was curious. He showed his science teacher, and she said he was telling her about you. I am proud of him for that. He has had a hard time talking about you, so that was a big step.

Have I said that I miss you?

Fuck, kid. I miss you so much.