Questions

After Colby's celebration I cannot sleep. I am awash with emotions and alternate between nervous crying and guilt numbness. Emotional release. It was a big day. I can't sleep so I pace the house. Can't sit, can't concentrate. This morning after I get in the truck is a little better. I drive to Knoxville to speak at a conference in silence. I still have trouble listening to music or talk radio. The quiet of my mind is better. I don't think, can't think. I exist and soon I am here. One of the first people I meet tells me of the loss of her son four years ago. It helps to talk about it and I know I am in the right place at the right time.

I sometimes question why I write this blog, then, like this morning I get close to 20 emails from people I don't know saying how much my words help them. That helps me. Thank you. I will keep writing my way through this process. I am told it could be a long process, which is good. I think I have a lot to say.

Reality

Today I awake with incredible sadness. This is the day I officially recognize that my precious son has passed. How can I possibly do that? I still occasionally think he will come bounding in the front door, that when the phone rings he will be on the other end of the line, that I will have just one more hug, that just once more I will hear him say, "I love you."

Facing reality is part of the grieving process and I know in my heart that Colby has moved on to a better place. I do feel in many ways that this was meant to be, that Colby was only supposed to be with us for a short time. I also recognize that I am not the only parent laying his or her child to rest today. Hundreds of parents across the country, the world, will say goodbye to their son or daughter today and each of them is grieving just as much as I am. For some, this is not the only child they have lost. To each parent I say, "Bless you. Bless your child. Stay strong. Remember the good times and know that your child would not want you to be sad."

I very well know these words are easier said than done and that none of the parents who are having services for their children today will get to this point tomorrow or even next month. But we will eventually. And while we will never forget, while there will always be a huge hole in our heart, while we will always have a fierce love for our children, I also know that somehow we will each get to a place in our hearts and souls that we can live with. Without minimizing the importance of the grieving process, I greatly look forward to that day.

Preparation

Today I make the final preparations for Colby's Celebration of Life event and everything is surreal. I buy a guest book, run copies of a schedule, double check that there is enough water and ice . . . and Kleenex. I pick up keys to the electric box at the park pavilion where the event will be held. How can I be doing this? I feel like I am going through the motions of life. I am not actually here. I am not really going to sit through a memorial service for my only child tomorrow. This can't possibly be. But it is.

I must stay busy. I mustn't think. If I think, I will fall apart so badly broken that I'll never be me again. I make a list. I can't cry. Not here, not now. I have too much to do. I bite my lips to keep the tears from falling. Somehow they fall anyway.