6 months ago today. Phone rings. My daughter is on the other end, telling me something I still have a hard time understanding. My world shattered with just a few words. My son had died over night. Her brother. She was crying. I was shocked, shattered, on my knees next to the bed I had just fallen out of. Tears streaming down my face while hoping, believing, this was just some bad dream, some bad joke. I just wanted to hold her in my arms, tell her it wasn’t true, that she had woken up from a nightmare. That Stefan was fine, just out doing silly boys stuff and would be home soon. But I couldn’t utter a word. I was in shock.
Today 6 months have passed. Somehow, they have still passed. Time has kept creeping inevitably on. Somehow, life for the rest of us is still moving along. Time is a fickle friend. An utterly soulless bastard. If it had a soul, it’d let us rewind and go back. The one wish that can never be granted. What has been done, is done, never to be undone.
It is said time will heal all wounds. Not sure time really cares, being the soulless creature it is. No, it’s not time that heals your wounds. You do. You heal yourself. Sometimes friends will help you along the way, comforting, soothing, distracting you. But mostly, it is you and your wound, sitting in a dark corner of your mind.
What cannot be done is to let it fester. Grief I find works just like an open wound. It can get infected, start to fester, puss running out of it, death taking a hold in it.
You can’t let that happen. It will poison you. It will slowly take a hold of you, your mind, your heart, your soul. I can see how family members have reacted. Not all cope well. What is important is to remember the good times, the bad times. Any time, except the time lost. Do not let the time lost over shadow the time had, the time shared, the time loved, the time together. No matter how little time that might have been.
Cherish the time had and time will help you to heal. But, as I said before, you are the one doing the healing, not time. Time only allows you to heal, as much as it allows you to poison yourself. Time is a fickle friend.
My son wanted to be a mechanic, specifically a race mechanic. He wanted to travel the world, not just to see it but to experience it. He wanted to live the dream he held in his heart. What nobler goal is there in life than to follow your dreams? As with so many others, his dream is what got the best of him too. I can only hope he enjoyed what he experienced to the fullest.
At his funeral there was two teachers from his school. They had nothing but good things to say, but the one thing I have kept with me of what they did say was that he was always a happy young boy who always helped others. A role model for his class mates. How can I be but proud? Cherish the good things.
I have had very good friends who have helped me through, who has supported me when I needed it and lifted me up when I was falling down. I owe you a debt of gratitude I can’t ever repay.
It will take more time to heal this empty hole in my soul, but heal it I shall. He is not gone, just somewhere else, yet always still here.