Matt, tomorrow is Christmas. I spent the morning crying my eyes out and hugging the bear I had made out of your sweatshirt. The grief and pain is still so powerful even after all these years. I find myself breathless when I let the reality of life sink in soaking through the protective coating I’ve wrapped around my heart.
The reality that you are really gone continues to hit me hard, taking my breath away. I go over everything in my head. Trying to figure out what went wrong. What could I have done differently to have the outcome I prayed for. I want to blame me. Then I want to blame you. You were an adult. I tell myself you made your choices. Choices that put your life in danger. Choices that took you away and left me a broken mess.
I wonder if you can see what you have done. How your death has taken my soul and ripped it in two. I wonder if you thought how your choice to use more just one more time would impact every aspect of my life.
I’m struggling through this holiday season. I can’t even look at posts of intact families. Families who don’t have an empty chair at their table. Families smiling for the camera, enjoying their time together. Hell, I can’t even get your brother to let me know if he’s coming for Christmas. Since your death, he’s pulled away from me. Every conversation is strained. I know he’s grieving but he won’t let me in. He’s so angry and I have become his punching bag. I feel like I’ve lost both my sons.
Christmas used to be my favorite time of year. Now every day is a struggle. I decorated this year using only my favorite things. The rest I packed up and donated to a recovery home. It helps my heart to see people who have made it through this disease and are now living life to the fullest. Oh how I wish that had been you. On my very dark days I do pretend you are alive, living a great life in Florida.
I really want to feel the joy of this season. I got the best news last week. My CT scans were clear. After 4 years, I remain free from cancer. I wanted to call you. To share this beautiful news with you. Instead I talk to the sky hoping you will hear me.
Today I listened to a podcast about a woman who died and met Jesus. What she described stuck in my mind. The beauty, the smells, the colors, the peace. I pray everyday that you are there living in heaven, healthy and finally at peace. I pray you are surrounded by light and love and that one day we will be together again celebrating Christmas in Heaven.
Until then I struggle here on earth. Struggle to find a bit of joy in a world I never saw coming. I wish you a Merry Christmas in heaven my beautiful boy. Until we meet again.
Love Mom.
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