I don’t know if it is the same for other people who have experienced traumatic losses, but for me, it seems that no matter what I do my life always comes back to Jack. Not outwardly, to other people, but inwardly towards myself. Whenever I have a rough day for example, I look for signs from Jack that it will be ok. In some cases we take his hat to important things, as a good luck charm, and we thank him when whatever it is goes our way. I talk to Jack in my mind a lot, I try to tell him things, in hopes that he can hear me.
I know it is my way of remembering him and keeping him with me. He has become this sort of untouchable, precious person in my mind, someone I strive to reach even when I’m not so sure that I will ever see him again. Sometimes I think he has moved on to an even higher purpose than I could ever understand and that he was only here briefly to educate us and our family about the importance and fragility of life.
But I think most times, during the darker moments, I remember that he is our baby that we cannot hold, cannot touch and cannot kiss. He is the baby of whispers. The one that is not mentioned for fear of bringing up painful memories. The one we should be “over” by now. But how can that be? How can anyone ever be expected to be over the loss of a child, regardless of their age? You merely grow into being able to carry the weight of your loss. And when you see someone who has lost a child, I think many times, you will see the burden of that weight in their physical appearance. I know I’ve got gray hair and wrinkles I didn’t have before Jack and they showed up not long after he left us. While we carry the weight better now than we did in the beginning, it doesn’t make it any less heavy.
So here I am, sitting at my computer, trying to come up with the best way to approach life with Jack always on my mind. I only wish he could be in my arms and not just in my head.