I Miss My Life

Jason and Becky

Even after all these years, I miss my life and what might have been if Jason had not died. I miss you, my precious Mr. Jay. I love you.


10 thoughts on “I Miss My Life

  1. I had one of those days yesterday. We had two weddings to go to and find those one of the hardest to get through. I get so sad that I’ll miss watching my child get married, perhaps have children…all the things that we look forward to that have been stolen from us.
    Take it easy today. Try to remember funny things you shared together, times that you laughed, and forgive yourself for hurting. It’s okay!

  2. Rebecca,
    I’m sorry for your extra hard day. I empathize as my husband and I have been having some extra hard days lately too. It’s distressing to someone who is fresh to loss to see that in your place looking back from several years past losing Jason you still hurt so much. I’m glad you are sharing your journey from a dual perspective – the depth of the loss you experienced then, coupled with the ongoing pain of now. Hang in there my sister in grief. As I read your blog I’m praying for you with knowledge. Thanks for sharing!

    • Oh, Claudia. I’m so sorry for your and your husband’s hard days. I certainly never want to distress or discourage anyone. I don’t claim to be an expert on grief; I’m just speaking from my heart concerning the loss of our son and my life since then. Please remember that my experiences in grief are unique to me and my situation, as yours would be to you. Each person is unique; each loss is unique; each walk is unique to that particular person and that person’s circumstances at the time. It depends on many, many factors – support, personality, upbringing, etc. Yes, there are similarities, but nothing concerning the loss of a child should be painted with one broad stroke.

      I remember going to a mother’s meeting very early on when one gal, who was approaching the first anniversary of her daughter’s death, was particularly distraught. In my naivete, I thought, “Shouldn’t she be over this by now? It’s been a whole year!” It was discouraging to me to think she was still grieving so deeply after a year’s time; I thought she should have been much “better” after a year than she was. I thought I would/should be “better” after a year. But, I have learned that my presumptions weren’t correct. Jason’s death has taken a long time for me to integrate into the fabric of my life. He was so loved, his life and love were so much a part of me that it just isn’t logical that I would get over his death easily or quickly. Our entire family didn’t have much support, and that can exponentially affect the process, too. I wish someone had sat me down to tell me that there is no time schedule and that it may take longer than I would think at the time; but that it wouldn’t always stay so dark and painful, that I would make it through, that this grief would not kill me, that it – although it will always be with me – the grief will become more manageable, that I would find and live a meaningful life.

      Most days now I “keep on walking on” with my daily life. Once in a while, though, it takes the right combination of “triggers” to make a particular time or day tougher than others. As I said in an earlier entry, grief is not starting in the valley of the shadow of death and walking steadily upward toward lesser and lesser grief. It’s not linear, and it takes as long as long as it takes. Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back; sometimes it’s one step forward and two back; sometimes it’s up and then back down again. I’m not sure grief, particularly when it concerns the death of a child, disappears totally, even with passage of time. It will always be with me. For me, it pops its head up from time to time – even still – and zings me right in the heart. That’s what happened to me yesterday. I will always miss Jason. I will always wish he were here. We, as parents, hurt so much because we love so much.

      You will make it through the difficult days. I am keeping you in my prayers, too. If you were here, I would give you a big hug!!

  3. I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. I can not imagine the pain in grief you are experiencing. I hope and pray that I don’t have to. But I do walk my own journey in loss and live with a hole in my heart…something I don’t think I will ever get used to. Sending you love and light in your darkest of days.

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