Thursday, May 26, 2016

In The Blink of an Eye

Life is fragile.

I type that, then am stumped. Stare at my blank screen with a blank mind. Heart hurting and chest squeezed. I just don't know what to say. Or how to say it. Or who to say it to. Or who to be angry at. Because I really, really want someone to be angry at. We've lost a luminous light. A beautiful young man who ran tame in my home for years. An honorary big brother and best friend to my son, a fearless, fiercely alive force who wrung out every last drop of joy in living. Gone. Far too soon.

And I don't know who to blame. Surely there's someone at fault. There's got to be somewhere to direct all this... whatever this is that I'm feeling. Sad, angry, unbelieving, horror, fear - oh so much fear. I want to gather my family and lock them up tight, hold them so closely that nothing can ever happen to them. I want to keep them safe from the whims of fate - but how?? Of course, I can't. There's no way to protect them from life. From death.

As deeply as I grieve, my family grieves, my son grieves... I cannot even try to imagine what his mother is feeling. Just the thought of her pain, crushes. And I have such angst, such panic, at the possibility that I may ever experience what she's going through. It's paralyzing, that fear. Absolutely petrifying.

We've experienced so damn much grief in the last few years. Deaths of dreams, of hopes and possibilities, and now the loss of such a special life. It just jangles in my mind like a discordant note in a song.

All I can do is keep moving forward. And if sometimes, moving forward means simply not sliding back, that's ok. I wish I could ease my loved ones pain. I wish I could soothe my fellow mother's heart. What I can, and will do is continue to be here. To try not to hold too tightly. To love unconditionally, and keep pushing fear back. To go on finding joy, even within grief.

And I'll remember the laughter. So many years of memories that are wrapped in the sound of the boys laughing. I'll treasure that. And I'll continue to believe in happy endings. For all of us.


  1. Chelle, I am so sorry for your families loss but that also of his family. We are never supposed to be "our" children. But yet sometimes unfortunately it happens. May God try and bring both families some type of peace and comfort in the following days, weeks, months and even years to come!

  2. You don't know me and I don't know you, but I follow you so I feel compelled to tell you how incredibly sorry I am for your families loss. Death is not understood, but death makes us realize what is so important. Hugs to you Chelle.