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It’s so weird to type this out.
And every year, it gets weirder.
I say weird because there’s really no other way to describe it. I should have a 5th grader. I should be playing referee between Ethan and Bear. I should be wracking my brain for gifts for both boys. Instead, I’m mourning one and celebrating the other.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I celebrate Ethan every chance I get, and I do it rather often. But it’s just…weird.
Bear is at the age where he’s starting to ask about Ethan a lot more and he’s sad he’s never got to meet him. I think they would’ve been great friends. I think they probably would’ve been best friends.
No first day of school. No driving lessons. No learning how to tie a shoe. No birthday parties. No sleepovers. No playdates. No shuffling one kid to one thing and shuffling the other kid to something else on the same day.
It’s the little things. It’s everything.
To everyone’s surprise, I decided to be home alone on Ethan’s birthday. I didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, friends or not. I just wanted to be in my thoughts as much as possible. I enjoyed cleaning, writing, doing chores, and hanging with my cats. I needed the solitude as I thought about my sweet boy.
As time progresses, I’ll never forget him and wonder what could’ve been.
It’s a weird club to be a part of – the parents who buried children. It’s unnatural and an ick that never entirely goes away. People look at you with sympathy that’s partially sadness and partially ‘at least you have a child’ as if that somehow makes up for the devastating loss. (Newsflash: it fucking doesn’t.)
Grief is also weird. You’ll be fine, and then it’ll hit you like a Mack truck. You’ll be okay, and then you suddenly won’t be. It might last minutes, and it might last days, and it might last much longer. And then it’ll be like nothing ever happened, and you’ll continue about your business.
The first year was the hardest, and it seems it’s been easier every year. I’ll never get over Ethan and I only hope Ethan is proud of me. I know I would’ve been very proud of him. I’m proud of him now.
