Twenty-Two Years

“And can it be that in a world so full and busy the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it up!”

— Charles Dickens

From my journal March 14, 2002:

“Jason’s gone. How can it be true? The most incredible guy I know. My precious boy. Sometimes I feel like one of those boxes you can fold open both sides so you can see right through. I’m an open box – an empty square with appendages. I wake up in the morning feeling like there’s pain filling my entire torso. It seeps to every part of my body. Sometimes I’m so weak I can hardly stand up or lift anything. I saw him. I know it’s real. I just can’t believe it. How do I go on without him? The sunshine in my day. The hugs, the sweet spirit.”

As I sat on the front porch in the sun this morning, I reflected back on the past twenty-two years since Jason died. All the places we have lived, all the ways I have tried to integrate his loss into my life, all the ways I have tried to be a person of whom he could be proud. It’s not an easy thing to do, this trying to figure out a way to keep on living after your child has died, to try to find something meaningful in the life that is left to you.

I’ve filled journals full of my thoughts and struggles. I’ve written this blog for years. We finally built a home we hoped would be a healing sanctuary. We’ve lived from one side of the country to the other and in between. I’ve taken up new hobbies. I’ve tried to develop a meaningful career. I’ve tried to make friends so we are not alone. I’ve tried to trust again.

I guess all have “helped” to some degree, if there is such a thing as “helping” a grieving parent. The journals gave me an outlet to say what we were going through when no one else wanted to hear or to be around us because our deep grief made them uncomfortable. I hope I have helped by writing this blog, given other parents an understanding that they are not alone. I’ve tried to live my life with integrity. I have not truly felt “at home” since Jason died. I love our little house. It suits us, but has been somewhat problematic from the get-go. It’s only been in the last few months I’ve begun to feel “at home.” Friendship has been somewhat elusive. I’ve trusted people, only to have them disappoint.

No matter what we do, grief never goes away. It ebbs and flows, sometimes strong, sometimes flowing under the surface. On days like today, the agony and emptiness is close at hand. Today, I am once again the empty box, an open box with appendages. I miss my boy. I miss the life we had. I miss the person I was.

My precious boy. I miss you so much!

Jason David Carney – 7/29/82 – 3/3/02

~Becky

© 2024 Rebecca R. Carney