As I Sit Here...

It’s a beautiful sunny day in the Pacific Northwest. I’m so blessed to have a job where I get to sit in my comfy clothes, look out my office window to the vibrant fall colors, and feel the warm breeze blow across my desk. I’m fortunate to know that my day ends when I say it ends. I can, and do, work at all hours of the day and night. I am not restricted to 8-5 or rush hour traffic. For this, I am humbly blessed.

It also means that I can grieve to my heart's content, if it even has a content to grieve. Kind of sounds like an oxymoron! If I feel a struggle to stay focused, I can walk away and resume when I’m feeling it. I can hop up every hour to walk myself dizzy for this little thing on my arm called a Fitbit. I can sit and stare out my window wondering how I’ve survived nearly two years without my son when at first, I struggled to understand how I would make it through the next hour. The only answer I have is, one day at a time. One day he was here, the next he was not. That was the day I became a different person. The day I became a mom of a child in Heaven. The day I struggled to find the strength to get up and get dressed every day.

As I sit here; 23 months and 8 days later, still struggling to understand why, still crying at the memories that fill my mind, and still longing to see him drive up, walk in, and give me a great big “BJ” hug. That is the torment. That is the struggle. That is what finishes this post with tears and sorrow, longing for one more moment or one more hug. But, in my heart, I know “one more” would not be enough. So, I will continue to hold on to the memories and the joy that he brought to my life and feel humbly blessed that God gave him to me for 35 years, 5 months, 4 days, and 7 hours.