Two.

It is the second anniversary of the boy’s death. I have spent two full years in this void. It seems like an eternity. It seems like a blink. I still miss him constantly. I am still broken. I still don’t fully understand how the world goes on without him. I am still angry that he’s been taken from me. If I had someone to blame I would feel rage. I still feel all the anguish of loss – all the misery of a future without him. I still leak tears every single day. And I am still tempted to crawl into a hole and give up – to just accept that happiness is gone. And I am still in motion and trying to move forward, because I still don’t want to disappoint him.

I know the bleakness I am feeling today is at least in part an artifact of the calendar. I know where I was on this day, and at this time, two years ago. I know what was still to come. I remember in vivid detail how the day would end in  disaster. I remember spending the night alone for the first time – shocked, confused, and numb.

I used to be half of a couple. I barely thought of myself as a separate entity after so many years together. I loved being half of our whole.

I plan to get drunk tonight. It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and I’ve already had my first glass of wine. I picked a bottle we had been saving for an occasion that never came. There are no occasions now.

I know my life is in a better place – better than it has been, at least. I recognize it intellectually. But today it’s  hard to believe. Today I will give myself permission to wallow in misery. I will look through my pictures and remember how happy we were. I will remember how wonderful he was and how lucky I was to have him.  I will feel pathetically sorry for myself. I will anesthetize myself with alcohol and I will hide from the world because I don’t want my friends and family to see my anguish in it’s rawest form.

Tomorrow I will begin the process of wrapping the wounds and moving forward again.

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