December 9th has rolled back around. I want this day to just be removed from my calendar. I want to go to bed on December 8th and wake up on December 10th. I don’t know what to do with this day. Although this year marks 6 years since Trevor died, getting through this day is definitely not something I have worked out. As I reflect this morning, however, I am reminded that for the first few weeks, I didn’t like the hours of the day that took Trevor from us. For several months following that, I couldn’t handle Fridays. Then for many months after that, it was the 9th of every month. I can be thankful that I only have to face this day once a year now.
I have learned so much in 6 years and so much has happened within our family in 6 years. Those great things cannot be reconciled with the fact that for 6 years I haven’t heard my son sing, speak, pound on his drums, or strum his guitar. For 6 years, he has not hugged me…or his dad…or his sisters. For 6 years, he has not sat on our couch or at our table or in front of our Christmas tree. For 6 years we have missed him, wanted him here, and questioned why he is not. The grief is painful. Day-to-day it has become manageable somehow. We all function quite well. We remember Trevor’s life, his love for music, his sense of humor, his intelligence, and his love for all of us. On December 9th though, I feel swallowed up by grief…still.
I know there isn’t a time limit for grief and I don’t want to ever quit grieving for my son. I love him. I love him so much. The grief we all face is the love that remains when someone we love leaves us. I’m never going to stop loving Trevor. I’m never going to stop grieving for Trevor. I just wish this one day could be removed. That’s certainly not to say I don’t grieve all year, but the excruciating pain of December 9th is different. I despise this day. I cannot ever imagine a time when this day will not haunt me. As soon as November arrives I begin watching the date. The knot in my stomach grows larger and tighter and it gets harder to breathe. When December 10th arrives, which happens to be Jeff’s and my wedding anniversary, it’s like a new year has begun and I wonder how we all got through another year without Trevor. It honestly happens like that. It is a horrible 24 hours and then it is gone.
This year Amy graduated from high school. Jeff started a new job. Megan and Austin celebrated their first wedding anniversary. Amy started college and I started seminary. Megan is graduating from college next weekend and begins her career as a special-education teacher in less than a month. 2017 has been a terrific year for our family. I have celebrated all of those things. Please allow me this one day to not celebrate, but to grieve deeply, to yearn for a big Trevor hug, to want…to dream of what he could have been. Please allow me this one day to just do whatever it is I have to do to get the hours to pass. This day is the day that I watched my sweet son take his last breath and no matter how many years pass, this day will never be anything but the day of dread.
Oswald Chambers said, “There is only one being who can satisfy the last aching abyss of the human heart, and that is the Lord Jesus Christ.”
You are blessed God, even the Father of my Lord Jesus Christ, Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforts me in all my tribulation, that I may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, by the comfort with which I myself am comforted by You. ~2 Corinthians 1:3-4
danacox31 
The depth of your pain will be met by the height of your joy on that day when there will be no more sorrow and no more crying. Go deep, my friend. Jesus is there. Praying for you and with you Dana.
You are allowed this day and another day you need….prayers and hugs to you my friend…..
any other day you need
This day will forever be an ache in all of our hearts who knew and loved Trevor. Love and prayers to you and your family. Take care💕