Moving On

When death visits your house and steals away someone that is part of your daily world, everything *freezes*.   That moment in time, when you hear the news for the very first time, not only does your body and brain physically react, but your heart and soul are ripped and thrown into the deepest pit.  And there you stay, sometimes for a very, very long time. 

We went out to dinner after Max's visitation on the advice of a friend.  And it was the STRANGEST sensation.  The world had been moving on, even as my world was frozen.  People were eating, and working, and planning.  I just wanted to SCREAM AT THEM - how can you move on??  MY SON IS DEAD.  He is dead.  How can you listen to music and talk about the weather?

And so it continued, after the funeral. People went back to work, to school, to their families.  Where did that leave me?  Where did that leave Max?  Still frozen,  still dead.  I begged God to stop allowing the sun to come up.  Let the world stay right where I was.  And yet, that sun kept coming up every day against my wishes.  As time marched ever on, I did adjust.  I did indeed.  I looked around six months later, and saw how *I* had changed, how my family had changed.  And the realization that I was moving on, like it or not.

In the last month, I am realizing there has been a deeper thaw of the frozen day.  It's one thing to accept "the world" has moved on.  It's completely another thing to accept that "Max's world" has moved on.  My nephew turned 19 last week, something Max will never do.  And Max was always "the oldest" grandchild.  Now he is just "the first", not "the oldest".   Wesley has turned a huge corner in his grieving process and has shed a lot of the weight of the last 18 months.   He doesn't need me to "fight" for him concerning his grief.  He is handling life very well.  And Trinity is dating a new guy.  All of these things make my soul rejoice and I am so happy for these things.  So why does my heart ache in a new way?  Because "Max's world" is now moving on... and he is forever stopped in that moment of time ... his story here ended 8/6/10.  I grieve for what might have been with him.

All part of the process.  And ever so painful.