Still Missing My Boy

I hate when the calendar turns from February to March, and I hate March 3rd. Perhaps I just hate the significance of that day.

The first year after Jason died, I hated the 3rd of every month. I absolutely hated them with a passion. I know it’s just a day of the month…well, perhaps in ordinary circumstances it’s just a day of the month, but to me it marked off the number of months we had lived without Jason. Each month marked so many “firsts” we had to do without Jason, so many struggles, so many heartaches, such long and lonely hours trying to figure out how to survive in a world without our boy. Now each March 3rd represents the ending of one year and beginning of another full year that Jason has been gone.

As February ends and it is inevitable that the calendar turns to March, I start to notice an anxious restlessness from deep within me. There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s like my whole being subconsciously knows that March 3rd, the anniversary of the day that Jason died, is approaching. I’ve learned to recognize where this restlessness comes from, and I have learned to do the best I can to navigate emotion-filled waters. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Usually the days leading up to March 3rd are more difficult than the actual day, perhaps it’s the anticipation of the arrival of that day.

I’ve been doing pretty well with managing the restlessness as it arises this year. But tonight, as the day was drawing to a close and the house quieted for the night, I felt like sitting down and crying. Another year. How can another year be gone? How can we have lived another year without Jason? It just doesn’t seem possible. It’s easier than it used to be, but it still hurts more than I let anyone know. I still miss him so much.

© 2013 Rebecca R. Carney

Advertisements

17 thoughts on “Still Missing My Boy

  1. We will miss our sons forever and every day we will ask “how do we go on without them?” and every day we will look at the clock at midnight and say “we made it through another day”. But we ask “is this any way to live our lives?”. How do we survive without the joy, the laughter, the love? I don’t know and most days I don’t wish to survive any longer. My heartfelt sympathy on the loss of Jason. May you find peace.

    • The joy, the laughter, the love gradually return, I have found – perhaps not the same as it used to be and not to the same degree. Sometimes it takes a long time for that to happen. Because we can laugh again or find joy in living our lives doesn’t mean that we don’t miss our children or that our laughter or joy is not tinged with some degree of sadness. We will always miss our children and wish they were here. I have never forgotten the “I made it through another day” days…or the days when I didn’t want to survive without Jason. I guess I’ve always been aware of “counting” something – one breath, one hour, one day, one month, one year. Surviving on breath at a time. I am so sorry for the loss of your precious son, Jean. I wish I could reach through the computer and give you a hug. I, too, pray that you will find peace. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Becky

      • I shall always miss my boy. Sitting in Kevin’s room today, I looked at all the baseball trophies, high school letters for games he will never get to tell his children about, books that we read over and over again, pictures with family and friends, clothes neatly folded on the bed…so many memories. I shake my head and wonder whatever was in the mind of the young man who killed my beautiful boy? I will never be able to accept that another human being took the life of such a fine, honest, decent, moral, talented, bright, funny, beautiful person, my son, Kevin. I hope that justice will come in the next life; in the meantime I pray for peace for me and my husband whose lives ended on July 4, 2011 as well. Thank you for your blog. It goes without saying, I never expected to be reading or posting on something as sad as this site.

  2. Rebecca, there is no “getting over” the death of a child (as you well know). I watched my mom bear up as her oldest died of breast cancer then, three years later as her youngest died from malaria! My mom bore her grief admirably but there were times she too broke down – years after – and everyone knew the source of those tears – she needed to express them. May you continue to find a certain kind of mother’s-peace – on those other 364 days of the year. Best to you – g.

  3. I feel the same way when February turns to March each year. I always think of you in my prayers, but especially the first week of March. Much love to you sweet Becky (and Joe and Jenna). Can’t wait for the time when time is no more and we have an eternity with Jason.

  4. At one and a half years out from the loss of Eva the 15th is less painful each month than it was the first year. It still stings though. And I know that when August hits I will be a mess again. There’s something in the weather. Much love to you as you move through the days towards the DAY.

  5. I’m glad you shared how you’re feeling as the 3rd (tomorrow) approaches. I’m praying for you Rebecca. I know God will bring you to my mind tomorrow, too. I trust you’ll feel the prayers of many, as there are people close to you who will be praying for you and your family, and those of us who only know you through this medium, but who care for you nonetheless. oxo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s