Last Tuesday, November 11, marked 6 months since our lives were forever turned upside down. Changed who I am. Changed my priorities, desires, and wants. I am not me anymore. I am a different version of me. My heart received a blow in which I feel will never fully recover from. We all have achieved milestones in our lives that begin journeys, ones that I usually associate with hard work and dedication with a goal to better our lot in life. May 12th changed everything in my life, in our lives, forcing a journey that no parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, or true friend ever wants to experience. I often forget that I am not the only one suffering in this particular situation. Not that I really forget that fact; but the dense fog of brokenness entraps me in my feelings of devastation. Its been four months since I have posted anything on your tribute page because I am at a loss for words when I sit behind the keyboard. Rage and anger more than anything consume my thoughts. I try so hard to focus on the good times, the fun times, the happy times, and the times where you truly laughed at something, but it only evokes anger, angry that I only have memories now. The what-ifs haunt me. I see our mutual friend to try and help me deal with everything. To try and sort out how to process all of this. It is already difficult to just go on each day and have so many things around me that remind me of you. Passing by Whataburger, Bill Millers, Taco Bell, Target (where Mr. Billboard, as you called him harassed you for skateboarding), JCPennys where your phone was stolen from the dressing room. Most of the times I can usually push down the sadness felt by those reminders long enough until I run across another reminder, repeating the now normal process of pushing down emotions. But pulling into our friend’s parking lot forces me to face the fact that you will not be joining me for the appointment. By nature I still expect to see you and your mom pull in moments before your appointment time. But you dont show up. By nature, sitting alone in the waiting room, I expect to see you soon picking at your mom trying to annoy her and get a rise out of her. But you dont show up. I sit there alone looking at the empty chair that you typically sat in while we waited. By nature, every time I walk to the back office, I expect to see you sitting in the yellow swivel chair, throw pillow in your lap, with a grin or half grin on your face. But you didnt show up. All our friend has to do is ask the right probing questions, and I cannot physically voice what I am feeling or wanting to say, only can I choke back the tears. I look over at the yellow swivel chair where you are supposed to be sitting, but its empty. You cant show up. Knowing I can no longer see you, hear you, or hug you with that manly one armed hug that you had adopted makes me shake my head in disbelief, shaking back the tears into anger that I have to accept that you are gone. We visited you last Tuesday, cold and windy. I placed a dried flower from one of your funeral arrangements on the temporary plaque marking your grave. As I stood there the realization started to sink in that I was standing at my sons grave, only 19 years old, just a few feet beneath me. The overwhelming panic is indescribable. I have a hard time wrapping my head around this whole thing. The weather this past week has Jonathon written all over it; cold, windy, partly sunny, cold again with a heavy mist this past weekend. I walk by the break room several times a day at work, where I would sit and talk to you, argue with you, reason with you; I can hardly bring myself to look much less step in there to get coffee. The last time I stood there and we spoke, we hung up on each other out of annoyance. I am so glad that I called you right back to tell you that I only push so hard because I loved you and that we should NEVER end a call on a bad note because we never know when it could be a last call. You told me you loved me, that you respected my concerns and you reassured me everything would be ok.... but only it didnt turn out that way. That was the second to last call I had with you. I keep thinking that you are just away somewhere and that any moment I will get a text from you or a phone call...something. But then I remember. I do have moments where I can laugh. But then I remember. I try and go about my days, eat my favorite foods, drink my favorite drinks; but then I remember. I pull into the garage and see the unfinished painted ceiling that you and I were working on, thinking I need to finish it, but then I remember. Its hard to believe its already been six months since we lost you. Today is six months since I carried you for the last time. The walk from the Hurst to your final resting spot seemed like a million steps, steps that I didnt want to end because I knew I would have to let you go. I have been forced to physically let you go but I will never let go of my love for you, the memories of you, the want of having you back. I will always miss you and think of you bud! Brokenhearted, Dad
Posted on: Tue, 18 Nov 2014 17:06:26 +0000
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