4 months down the road

Hi, there... sorry it's been so long since I've checked in. Don't think for a minute that you haven't been with me and in my thoughts just about every minute of every day the past 4 months...

Yesterday, Nov. 18, marked 4 months since your death on July 18th. Thursday will be our first Thanksgiving without you here on earth. Everytime I think of mashed potatoes, I think of how you loved them. I made a bunch of pumpkin-pie cheesecakes this weekend. I remembered how we colored the filling one year and smiled at the memory. It was not as hard to make the cheesecake this time as the first time I made one after you were gone. But it still hurt and it still made me sad.

Pop Pop is coming down today. It will be the first time he's been at the house since before you died. I guess the last time he was here was for Easter. I can't believe how much time has gone by and the year is almost over. I am dreading New Year's this year. How on earth do we mark the beginning of a full calendar year without you here?

It is so strange, John. I know you are not here, but I still look for you. I hate the idea that I might see you in the shadows of a dark room, because that would mean that you are really gone from this earth. Oh, how I want for it to not be true. But at the same time I long for a sign that you are okay and that you are near. Good grief, but I miss you.

Your Dad is looking tired these days. I know he misses you but he doesn't talk much about you. There is such a burden on his heart because he misses his buddy. He's so lonely and broken-hearted without you, kiddo.

Mom actually brought up your death in conversation yesterday. She misses you, too. I think in some ways Thanksgiving will be hardest of all on her. She loved cooking for you, maybe even more than I did. Hard to believe, huh?

It all seems so unreal, John. I saw you in the hospital every day, and I watched you die. I saw you change before my eyes, and watched your body break down (which broke my heart). I saw your body at your funeral, but it didn't look like you. It looked like a bad stunt double. I just can't believe that you are gone. I can't accept that we won't see you again for a very long time, and never again in this place.

I cannot fathom this pain in my chest for the rest of my life. I don't know what to do for your Dad and I miss who he was before you died. I want us to be truly happy again, but I don't know if that is even possible. We are no longer just your parents. We have become a couple who have lost a child to drugs; to bad choices; to death.

Your Dad said you had to die so others would learn a lesson. I say that's a load of crap. There are so many other, better lessons that could have been learned by your example. I can't, I don't, and I won't accept his reason. You could have been, could have done, so much more, for so many. Your death was stupid and could have been prevented, but you made bad choices and although you paid the ultimate price, we have to bear the consequences.

But all that being said, John, I am so thankful to have had you in my life, even for a short time. We never felt like we had enough time with you and now we never will. I miss you, kiddo. Happy Thanksgiving.