my son

My Son

Getting out of bed this morning feels near impossible. My eyes are heavy with dried tears and my heart is leaking large stones of loneliness throughout my body, making my limbs heavy and weak. Somehow I find the courage and manage to move my body and get up. I don’t bother to turn on the light as I shuffle towards the door in the dark, stopping only to stare at a picture of you, my beautiful son, only four years old at the time. Seeing this picture of you breaks my heart and I hug it close to me before putting it in the drawer where I can’t see it. If allow myself to cry, I’ll be late. I bypass the kitchen, not hungry again. In the shower I let the hot water scald my scalp and my back. I am so numb I don’t notice the pain. I dry myself off and throw my wet hair into a bun, hairspray isn’t needed. I ignore the little box of make up on the counter knowing that it’ll just run. I slip into the black dress hanging on the closet door immediately ashamed that it makes me feel so beautiful. At least the shoes are simple flats. I walk across the empty house towards the door and pick up my keys from the table. The click of the key chains is another reminder, another picture of you, my son, your freshman year of high school. The car is silent, like the house, no music playing. The drive is a long one but goes by in a flash not remembered. I sit there in the parking lot staring at the sea of dull gray before me. Eyes closed I look up and beg God to give me the strength I need. A moment later I am able to do what must be done, I get out of my car and begin the walk. Try as I might I cannot ignore the painful, hopeless world around me. Before I know it, I am at my destination, I am at the grave. I don’t need to read it; I remember from yesterday:

Loving Father and Doting Husband. Gone too Soon

I can no longer hold back and cry loud weeping sobs that end in a hiccup. Eyes red and watery I turn around and see you standing there, the white flowers in your hand contrast beautifully with the red stripe on your blue pants.

“Hi mom.”

 You’re finally home.