As time passes, I keep thinking of the parts of his life that he’s missing. The parts that were all missing.
I’m thinking of the grandbabies I won’t get to have. The shared grandparent experience I won’t get to have with his dad and step mom. Carter is almost 14 and maybe he will want kids someday when he grows up. Maybe he won’t. And I’ll still have my honorary granddaughter and any other honorary grandbabies from all of my chosen kids.
But I won’t have his. And he won’t get that experience. He wanted to get married. And he wanted to be a dad. Cute little Bryce babies with those dark, long lashes and big dimples. I’d have spoiled the fuck out of those babies too. Just like I do with my honorary granddaughter, C. I can’t help it. She’s so damn cute. And honestly, she kinda looks a little like Bryce. Her mom is his older half sister so she has enough of the features from that side of the features that are similar to the ones that he got from his dad that they actually look a little alike from when he was little.
We’re getting closer and closer to 2 years and I just don’t even want to think about it. I don’t want to think about how it’s been so long since I’ve seen him smile. Heard his silly laugh. Given him a big hug. I still have our text thread in my phone and it’s still pinned to the top where it was before. I can’t move it. I don’t want to move it. I don’t want to delete it.
I want my baby back. I want to celebrate his adult milestones with him just as I celebrated every one of his childhood ones.
There are times that I will be driving and just letting my mind wander. Listening to music. Sometimes thinking. Sometimes trying NOT to think.
I’ll pass riders on the roads or highways. Sometimes alone…sometimes in pairs or groups. My mind immediately goes to him. Sometimes it even sees him in one of the riders. Maybe it’s the way they’re riding and it’s similar to his style. Maybe it’s their posture in the bike and I can tell that they’re also likely fairly tall by the way the back rounds like his did when he wasn’t sitting up straight. Sometimes it’s because the bike is a similar build or colors.
No matter the reason, my mind goes to him. Sometimes a wish. Sometimes a drop of my heart. Sometimes even a double take despite that being completely irrational.
Sometimes, this mask can be so heavy. I can go through my days and probably appear “normal” to many people.
I will be laughing, smiling, or joking. I will chat with people just like in the “before days.”
But that isn’t how grief works. I know that. Everyone in the trenches knows that. The sadness is always there, lingering. There is always a reminder of how much I miss him, of what he is missing.
He has missed 2 Christmases. 2 birthdays. 2 Mother’s Days. 2 Father’s Days. 1 anniversary with his longtime girlfriend, with another coming soon. Many sibling birthdays. One of his big sisters found out that she was pregnant for the first time. Then she lost the baby. His second niece. His little sister is graduating high school soon. So much that he has missed. So much in the future that he still will miss. So much of our lives. So much of his.
I have so many random thoughts in my mind, but I can’t always make sense of them. I can’t always get them organized from the random jumble in my head to coherent thoughts that can be put down here.
Sometimes, the thoughts are coherent. Sometimes, it’s just intense feelings of grief. Sometimes, it’s just intensely missing him. Sometimes, it’s a flood of memories, often like a slideshow that starts during my pregnancy with him and ends that last night. There are even times that I just feel HEAVY. Like the weight. A heavy weight on top of me and I just lay there until I can get up again.
I hate this. I hate how I feel.
And I hate that you aren’t here with us. I hate that we are all struggling so much. I hate that my brain almost has an ADHD quality to it now and it’s sometimes hard to focus. I hate that I go in and out of being “okay” vs struggling to get through each days. Some days are manageable. Others revert back to the early days where simple things like bathing, eating, and sleeping are nearly impossible tasks. I keep disposable Colgate Wisps in my bedside table for bad depression days when I can’t get out of bed to brush my teeth.
Sometimes, I drink just as much caffeine as water because I was lucky to get 3 hours of sleep the night before. On other nights, I get 6-7 hours and I think about how I just got an amazing amount of sleep.
I remember, shortly after losing Bryce, someone told me to “just focus on my other son”. As if I am not focusing on him? On his heartbreak? To that person…have you ever had to fucking tell a 12-year-old that his brother was never coming home again? Have you ever had to explain cremation to a 12-year-old? Or walk a 12-year-old through the process of seeing the big brother that he idolizes in a fucking coffin? All I do is focus on how he is doing…and how his mental health has been affected since we lost Bryce. How my mental health has been affected. How his dad’s mental health has been affected. How his step-mom’s mental health has been affected. How his SEVEN OTHER siblings other than my “other son” have had their mental health affected. Along with his niece. His brother-in-law. His longtime girlfriend. His best friend. His childhood friends. So many people that I worry about non-stop, even if I am not checking on them all daily, I am thinking about them daily and how they were affected. I am thinking about myself too. How could I not? Have you ever felt this pain? I hope you never have to feel it.
Grief is a B!tch 