Peace

As per my grief counseling sessions, I have been documenting my emotional times and triggers the past few days with interesting results. I seem to wake up emotionally numb, and then as the day goes on become more shaky and weepy. Late evenings are the toughest. How I long for my son. How I long for peace of mind.

Also as my counselor suggested, I have been trying to find something special to do, something that I would like, that would be fun. Today I decide to go hiking at a place Colby and I often went to not too far from my house. It is late afternoon by the time I get there, a time according to my documentation that I tend to be emotional. True to form, tears begin to fall as soon as I hit the trail. The memories are intense and each step brings up another one. There' s the spot where I slipped one muddy Sunday afternoon, and where Colby pulled me up. There's the spot where we took photos of each other, photos that I haven't yet been able to find amongst all of Colby's stuff. There's the place we stopped and sat on a log and had great discussions about nothing. Each twist and turn of the trail brings back a memory, and I am so very sad that we won't have more memories to share.

Then I remember a mother in my online grief support group who lost a daughter a while ago. This past week her apartment burned to the ground, taking with it all her photos and treasured items that belonged to her daughter. I can't imagine her pain and her sense of loss. If you've been reading this blog you know that Colby left lots of "stuff." I will have plenty to remember him by, while this woman has only the memories in her mind.

Even so, my loss seems insurmountable at times. Colby was my only child, my dearest friend, the person who knew me best in all the world. I always thought he'd be there for me in my later years, that eventually I'd have a grandchild or two. Colby's passing not only represents the loss of my son, it is the loss of security in my later years, the loss of my family.

Colby passed exactly four weeks ago today. I know that he is now free of the panic attacks, the depression, the anxiety, the anger, and everything else he battled. I am glad he is no longer troubled. But I do miss him. I will feel guilty until the day I die even though I know in my heart there was nothing I or anyone could have done. Rest peacefully, my son.