Hoping to share the love, joy, and grace I have received in my own life.

4 Years…it isn’t easier

on December 9, 2015

I despise this day.  I don’t know what to do with it. I have been dreading it for two weeks.  Since Thanksgiving, I have felt a tugging at my heart.  My eyes have been welled up with tears, more often than not. I have read and heard numerous suggestions regarding how to make it through this day.  For me, at this point, none of those suggestions work.  The date consumes me so much that even in my sleep (or lack thereof) I am aware of the pain that December 9th brings.  Nobody in our house slept much last night.

The passing of time has changed between the third and fourth year.  It used to be that there were both times it feels as if I haven’t hugged Trevor for so very long and other times it  was as  if he was just here.  I have lost that feeling of him just being here and am now only able to feel the long and painful stretch of time without him.

Trevor has been gone for four years!  For four years my heart has continued to beat and I’m not sure how.  If I close my eyes, in the dark and silence of his room in this minute, I can hear his voice.  I can see his smile.  I can smell him.  The yearning is what is so hard.  I cannot find the words to describe the incredible ache in my heart and pain in my arms.  I want so badly to hold him.  I want to hear one of his intellectual jokes that often left others perplexed.  I want to talk with him about his new favorite band and the last book he read.  I want to hear him play his guitar or ukulele, as he sings in that incredibly low voice.  I want to hear him beat on his drums, tease his sisters, and laugh at an episode of Adventure Time. 

Today is the day that this incredible pain will not subside.  I know that.  If I could wish the day away, I would.  For those that haven’t lost a child, I know that it is hard to understand, but no matter what I think or what I do, this day is truly excruciating.  Just a few weeks before Trevor died, my grandpa gave him a few of his sweaters that Grandpa no longer wore.  Trevor loved those sweaters and although they weren’t necessarily in style, he wore them because the sentiment was more important.  This is how “Sweater Day” began at Oregon High School.  Today, I will wrap myself in a sweater, like so many other people missing my son today.  I will try to think of the beauty of his life, to concentrate on all of the love that still exists in our home, and to just get through this day. 

Miraculously, my heart will keep beating, although a part of it left me four years ago today.  For the past two weeks, I haven’t been living like I want to, but I have just been existing to get through.  I want to be happy.  I am not feeling sorry for myself.  I do not suffer from depression.  I grieve the death of my son.  I yearn for him…ache for his hug, his smile, his humor, his life. 

Tomorrow I will be back to living, back to helping others, back to trying my best to smile, laugh, and love this life.  I know that without God, I would not be able to get through this day.  Today, however, I’m going to cry, remember, ache and acknowledge the deep hole left in my heart.  I’m going to grieve for Trevor, my son, the boy who holds a piece of my heart that will never be filled with anyone or anything else.


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