Looking Back One Year

Dear Brian,

What a rough weekend for me to get through.  It's been a year now, and I'm still as lost as I was a year ago.  And yet in some ways I've been able to get through it.  I know I move through my days doing the things that need doing, but there's not as much purpose any longer.  I can feel this happening, and yet seem unable to change any of it. 

With COVID, I'm not able to go places or do things, and I'm finding it quite a relief that I'm not being urged to be social in any way.  Which makes me chuckle.  I wear my mask all the time because it's the law, and I don't even have to smile at customers -- they have no idea what my mouth does behind my mask!  It's amusing to be able to move through my day without having to do the whole small talk and smile -- hard to do that when you're forced to stay six feet apart all the time.  hahah

I sat down and read your note today.  It hurt to see your handwriting.  I'm not sure if I was looking for comfort in your words -- I already knew I wouldn't find it.  I think I have that note memorized. It still didn't give me any answers.  I still have so many "what if" scenarios that I run through my head.  But I can't change what happened.  But I wish I could have.

Aunt Lori isn't doing well.  I don't know if she's at the "I give up" stage of fighting her cancer, but it seems like it might be. She's always been the one in control, and she's trying to do her medications by herself.  From what Grandma tells me, it sounds like she's over medicating; she sleeps through her days, and barely eats or drinks.  She's at Grandma's now.

I cleaned out a few of your things.  I put some of the hot wheels cars from your shelves into the carrying case.  I wonder if Zane would like to have them?  I didn't know what to do with all your wallets and pocket knives, some of the comic books and your drumsticks.  I have a couple thoughts, but since I wasn't certain, I'll just sleep on it for a while longer.

Writing to you here keeps your memory alive for me in a tangible way.  And I need the outlet.  So I'll just keep doing what I'm doing.

Love you and miss you every single day
Love,
mom

I Wish You Peace

Dear Brian,

It's Christmas Day.  The second hardest day I've ever had to endure.
Yesterday I melted down completely.
Today has been better, as long as I stick to my plan of house cleaning and laundry chores.

But knowing that you will never stroll through my front door ....
sorrow isn't a "big enough" word for it,
neither is grief.
They both seem to imply that they're either temporary, or will pass.
This isn't.

You're the only one who knew what this day was like before I lost you.
Now it's even worse.

My cousin and my sister both sent me a text to wish me Merry Christmas
along with my co-worker Rita.

Otherwise, another day spent like so many in the past.

I took down the gun rack you got from Doug one Christmas.
Maybe someone else will be able to use it.
I finally mailed off all your Legos.  They'll be cleaned up and repurposed to needy kids.
I'm hoping you like that thought.

I heard a song the other day, the chorus goes like this:

I wish you peace, I wish you love

I wish you blessings from above

We can try to make this world a kinder place

There is a lot that we can do

If we make our minds up to

All the loss and tears and pain

That seek release

I wish you peace

I hope you've found that peace, my son.

with all my love,

mom