The End of an Era

My husband and I moved from California to Washington State in 1981 to try to make a better life for our young family. At the time, our first child was not even 2 years old. We got tired of having notices in our water bill that we couldn’t give tap water to our child and were concerned about all of the smog alerts that the elderly and children shouldn’t be outside. We wanted clean air, clean water, clean living for our family.

We arrived in Washington State to make it our home on April 1, 1981. I loved it from the get-go. So much beauty, so many places to explore. Two of our children were born there. Our kids grew up, we explored our state, homeschooled our kids. So much living happened there. Jason loved Washington, died and is buried there. Of all the places we’ve lived, it has represented “home” to me.

All of that changed when Jason died.

Joe and I moved from Washington in mid-2006 and our daughter moved to Denver by that year end. Our oldest son and his family stayed in Washington and we have gone back to visit them over the years. Each time we were there, we stopped by to visit Jason’s grave, placed flowers on the grave stone. Because of increasing safety issues, high housing and small business costs, skyrocketed gas and living expenses, our son and his family are packing up and moving to another state by the middle of next month. Once they move, the strong ties we once had to Washington will be gone. Joe and I live all the way across the country now and I can’t imagine we will go back any more.

After Jason died, I visited the cemetery a lot. It was a place where I felt like I could be close to him, talk to him. As hard as it was to look at that grave stone and the finality it represented, there was a comfort in being close to my boy. It was a peaceful place, a place to sit or walk or cry or think.

It’s so strange to me that I feel so very, very sad and almost a panic at Jason being left behind with no one to be there for him. I can’t stand the fact that he will be alone, even though the friend who died in the same accident is buried very close. Who will take him flowers? Who will clean the grave stone? Who will remember?

Oh, my precious boy.

I know in my heart that he is not really there. I know he is waiting for me on the other side of that proverbial river we all must cross over someday when our time on this earth is over. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will see him again – really SEE him, HUG him – when this life for me is over. I long for that day. This life has not been easy for me since Jason died. It has been one of pain, emptiness, loneliness, struggles, disappointments.

Our older son promised me today that he will go to polish Jason’s stone one last time before they leave and will say goodbye. He, too, feels the enormity of leaving Jason behind. I will send him money to buy some flowers to put on the headstone for me.

Tears pour down my face as I write this. I feel like we are all abandoning Jason, leaving him behind and alone, and it tears at my heart and crushes me. I don’t think I’ve ever figured out a way to say goodbye to Jason, my precious boy. Life moves on and the shell of me that I now am keeps on trying to find some meaning and purpose in this life that has been left to me. I don’t feel like I have done or am doing it well.

Jason, you made everything better and brighter. You are always in my heart. I love you beyond what any words could possibly convey.

~Becky

© 2024 Rebecca R. Carney