It''s just sitting there. In the same place where I had, had a photo. A photo of you. And Ashli, your Fiancé. Our daughter in law to be. Was to be? .. Is not to be.
A photo that had been a gift. A gift that had made me cry it had touched me so.
A gift for Christmas one year. It was framed in a beautiful photo box that had a little brass plaque that is engraved.
It says "We Love You Mom". It was the first Christmas the whole family had been able to spend together, in what seemed like forever. It was a wonderful Christmas. We hugged when you went to leave, and held on longer than normal for some reason. We both did. Now, now I know we knew. I knew in that moment, I always knew.
The Blue Box, it sits there now. It''s sitting in that same place. The place that your photo once had been.
The place that I had put it when I had brought it into the house. I have not touched it at all since.
I have avoided looking at it.
I can''t touch it. I can''t look at it.
It''s A Blue Velvet sack with a plastic box inside. There is a label on the box. I have not looked at that either.
I was told it has your name on it. My son''s name. Christopher. Inside that, it is just Ash.
Inside that box is the whole of you? my son? Your laughter, your tears, the sparkle in your eyes?
Your heart? Your kind, gentle passionate heart?
The essence of you.
The essence of who you were? Who you had been? Who you were to become.
My baby, my boy, my young man.
And now all of that is gone?
All of that? All of you?
All the hopes, the dreams, the plans.
The future. Your Future? Our Future. The future of our family.
The love, the growth.
All lost and now, it just sits.
That Blue box. That blue box, that holds the you, I once knew.
That Blue box, my life, my hopes, my dreams.. All that was to be.. Gone. Black, Blank. Vanished.
As though even the thoughts had never been.
All I have left of you to hold?
All that is left of your physical being, Is this box. Sitting here wrapped in Blue velvet.
This is just not right. My beliefs so contradict my heart.
My broken heart.
My spirit wrapped in sorrow.
Writing helps. I don''t know why, but it does.
I really can not put into words what this all feels like to me.
I get caught. Caught between trying to go on. Trying to figure out what to do with this.
My beliefs, That Christopher, you are in a better place. That you needed to go, that you have "higher" things to do. Things that could not be done here. Things that are beyond my wildest dreams.
But things that have to do with helping. Helping others in a HUGE way. So huge that a human mind could never even begin to fathom.
And then there is my heart. My Spirit, My Soul, My whole being. That a part of myself is gone too. You, a part of me.
Sometime the music in my soul is so silent now. I can''t feel it. And then just as fast as the news went through my body, the music comes back.
Christopher was born, Feb.25th 1985.
A beautiful sunny Day.
He traded in his wheels for wings at age 25. June 2, 2010.
This, I wrote just a month after his death.
I can''t remember a lot. Parents go into what I now know, we all call, "A Fog".. A horrible, but needed, and helpful "Club" to be a member of.
It was just him, a bike, a puddle of water and a pole.
No drinks or drugs, his shoulder dislocated (an old injury) and he lost control as he was unable to stear.
If you know a parent who has lost a child.
Do not ever say, "In a better place"
"You still have your family", "other children"..
The BEST thing you can do, is Hug, and say you are sorry. That''s it. Follow their lead, in conversation, there is NOTHING you can say that will help. Just show Love. They are not themselves, and may last out. Don''t take it personal. They won''t even remember the next day.
I am so sorry for your loss, time does NOT heal the pain, time DOES help make the intolerable a little more bearable.
you are in my prayer
m
Ron
budd