Every day, every hour, every minute, we miss you.

I’ve been doing some spring cleaning and ran across all of the journals I wrote after Jason died. I started writing the week after Jason died. This one is from February 21, 2009, just a couple of weeks before the eighth anniversary of Jason’s death:

2/21/09

My precious Mr J –

I can’t believe you have been gone nearly eight years. In so many ways, it just seems like yesterday.

I miss you so much.

[Songs from] that Collective Soul CD came up on my iPod yesterday – the one that you would put in the CD player in the car and crank up loud so that we could rock out together to it…and I was instantly back at that time…a time of hanging out, of me driving you to college or the bus stop or to work at the hardware store…a time of all the great, wonderful, everyday things with you in our lives.

How I miss you. Our lives are not the same without you.

I am not doing well. I can’t get over losing you, my precious and wonderful boy.

My life is so much of a shadow of what it used to be – and so much less filled with hope.

You took my sunshine with you when you left…and I don’t know how to go on without you.

With you around, it seemed like the possibilities for good things were endless – and now I drag through the days.

I loved spending time with you. I loved hearing what happened in your day. I loved our times of stopping by Arby’s during your first quarter of evening classes at Edmonds [Community College], grabbing a bite to eat after class and catching up.

I watched you with amazement – amazed that such a wonderful young man was my son, and feeling so blessed that God gave you to us.

But then He took you away, and nothing has been right since then.

We miss you. Every day, every hour, every minute, we miss you.

I love you with all of my heart.

Mom

I still miss you, Mr J, every day, every hour, every minute. I still love you with all of my heart.

~Mom

© 2018 Rebecca R. Carney

2 thoughts on “Every day, every hour, every minute, we miss you.

  1. It never will go away – will it Becky…we are destined to find memories around every turn, every corner for the rest of our lives. Sometimes stirred by a song, a movie, a scent…it could be anything at any time. For me, the memory of driving my daughter Anna back to school in Chicago has been on my mind a lot lately. We sometimes would stop at McDonald’s for a snack or drink on our way. She would always lean over, kiss me and say “Thanks mom – love you.” as she got out of the car in front of her dorm. I would say “See you soon, Anna – love you too.” I still can’t drive into Chicago without experiencing anxiety because it is the same drive to the hospital the day she left us – so it is best that I don’t make that drive, maybe never will again.
    Take care Becky – I share your pain with the loss of our precious children.

    Jackie

  2. Our lives as we knew it is over. Now our lives are filled with memories, sadness, and suffering. I know now that the pain is not as raw as it was at first but has changed into a constant in my life. Our lives… The circle of death has eroded our happiness. Hugs my friend.

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