Happy 21st Birthday

February 13th.

Another birthday has come and gone without him here. We lost him only 1.5 months before his 20th. This one was his 21st. The second birthday we’ve had to celebrate without him.

None of us were okay. Some of us isolated to bedrooms and tried to disassociate with things like tv, movies, or video games. Some of us tried to stay busy with various things, whether it be projects or working extra long hours to keep brains distracted.

Not one of us were okay.

In my home, we went to his memorial to clean up and decorate for his birthday and spring.

We also decided to pour some out for him. Not only a couple of his favorite drinks but also the drinks he wasn’t able to have to celebrate the milestone of being 21. He had a couple of his own favorites, there were a couple of mini shooters that he’d left in his room (one was even open and had a sip from it), his sister had found a Joker branded beer can last year that she’d saved for his 21st, and I’d asked siblings if they had anything they wanted poured out for him. We took turns toasting each drink to his memorial, taking a small sip, and pouring out the rest for him.

We set up new spring decorations to join some existing ones along with a couple of gifts for him.

Does it really help me to do things like this? Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. That morning, I’d woken up right before the exact time he’d been born. I laid in bed and just cried. I don’t know how long. Then I fucking rallied. Then I cried again that night.

Because what else do you do when part of your own heart is missing from your chest?

Have you ever been stabbed in the heart?

Or maybe had someone punch into your heart and squeeze a la Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom?

That’s what it feels like to lose a child.

I’ve never suffered a pregnancy loss.

I’ve never had a stillborn.

I can’t even imagine that pain because I’ve never experienced it. But I remember how many people compared it to my loss after Bryce passed. And I remember having to bite my tongue because I know they meant well. I know I loved my boys from the moment I knew I was pregnant so I know those losses must be horrible. But to have them compared to the loss of a nearly 20 year old, living, and breathing child with dreams and ambitions.

This was my child who was there one minute, laughing and joking with friends, texting his girlfriend that he’d be home shortly and then…nothing.

This was my child who was texting me only a few hours earlier about his Christmas plans and then…nothing.

This was my child who only hours earlier said bye to his baby brother and said that he’d see him later and then…nothing.

There are so many things that aren’t helpful to hear when you lose your child. That’s one of them. It’s also not helpful to be told that they’re in a better place, that it’s “god’s plan”, or any other religious bullshit…even for those who believe that religious bullshit. The “better place” for a parent’s child is here. With their family. Not in someone else’s perceived afterlife.

So did I cry on his birthday? Fuck yes.

Do I still cry other times too? Fuck yes.

Because I miss him. Because I love him. Because he should be here. Because he’s missing the life he should have had. Because he’s missing our lives. Because my mind remembers the trauma of that night. Because my mind remembers the last time I saw him. Because my mind *can’t* remember the last time I hugged him. Because he’s missing his sibling’s lives. Because his siblings are missing him. Because he’s missing his niece’s life. Because his niece is missing him. Because the man who caused the accident was not prosecuted due to a technicality despite a long ass list of past offenses.

Because it’s a random ass day and I want my son back.

So did I cry on his birthday and do I still cry other days? Yes

Because what else do you do when part of your own heart is missing from your chest?