I have a million thoughts,
feelings, and emotions going through me today. I still can’t figure out why
some years this day hits me harder than others. It was immediately when I woke
up today, and the waterworks just aren’t letting up. BJ, I miss you so damn much… which makes me
cry. My next thought is I am so completely grateful to still have your brothers
with me… which makes me cry. You left us with the biggest blessing you could,
your beautiful daughter and I think of her, how much I love her, how proud you
would be of her… and I cry. You’ve missed
out. She’s missed out. We’ve missed out! Damn it, why!?
Nine years. And yet, I wake up
hearing those words repeating in my head… the words that make it as real today
as it was in 2016… “BJ was in a fatal car accident, and he is no longer with
us.” He is no longer with us… plays repeatedly in my head this morning for what
seemed like forever but was likely only seconds. Well… what Bryan had to say to
me on that day is true. “He is no longer with us.” Yes, but only physically. Don’t
forget to interpret “physically” into that statement, because let me tell you
what, he is as much with me today as he was when he was living, breathing, and
walking this earth. He is part of me. I still see his face. I still hear his
voice, and I can still feel his hugs.
It’s so funny how we wake up and
grab our phones. I suppose sometimes, it might be to shut the alarm off (or hit
snooze as many times as possible before me MUST get out of bed!). Today, I
randomly grabbed it… at 9:16 am (IYKYK). And then… a message, sent from a good
friend sharing her condolences with me and in disbelief that it could already
be nine years since “we lost BJ” … her words. It wasn’t just my loss, or his
daughter’s loss, or his brother’s loss. It was everyone that ever loved him or
any life he ever touched. It is their loss too. This same friend dropped
everything she was doing when she got my call, packed her car, and made the two-
and half-hour trip from the beach to be with us. By the way… there were only a
handful of people that got a “phone call” from me or his brother. We have a
huge family with extended family and then an enormous friend base that are all
like family. Most of them read it on social media that day. Heck, I knew
something was up because of a couple of messages I received via Messenger that
morning. I then reached out to Bryan to
ask if he had heard anything about BJ. How difficult that must have been for
Bryan. He was the receiver of the official “in-person” notification. He was
driving to my house to be there with me when he told me, but he got my text
while he was driving and then he called. He was only a few minutes away, but I
am sure he knew in that moment that he shouldn’t wait to tell me because local
people already knew of the accident, and he didn’t want me to hear it from
anyone else. What a dreadful thing Bryan had to do. That was the day our family
changed forever. Our love for each other grew deeper, we cherished every minute
together, and we always show up for each other.
Many people say it gets easier
with time. I think time lessens the sting of loss because I feel the pain of
losing my son as much today as I did nine years ago. As I mentioned, I woke up hearing
the reminder that he is no longer with us, read a text of condolences, and have
shed a million tears. I soon knew I needed to release some of this pain and get
my emotions under some kind of control, so here I am putting the words on
paper. I started this blog on BJ’s 36th birthday, a mere eight
months after he physically left us. It was my journey of grief. A safe place to
express my feelings. This blog was the one single thing I did for myself that
helped me through my grief better than anything. Early on I blogged twice a
week… Tuesday’s (because his birthday was on a Tuesday the year I launched this
blog) and on Forget-You-Not Friday’s. I blogged regularly for quite some time.
I also gave myself permission to only blog when I had something to say or I
needed to release feelings of grief. I didn’t blog just to blog. I blogged for
my mental health.
I know today’s post is all over
the place, but so are my feelings and again, this blog is for me, for my release
of grief, and for my wellbeing. The beautiful thing is, no one ever has to read
it for me to feel better, but it is here for others to read in case they need
to hear some words that might help them in the moment.
I will end with this…
 |
| Living his dash! |
I miss you as much today as I did when you
were taken from us. I miss your laughter, your smile, your stories… well, I
miss everything about you. I will never just “get over it” because someone
might think I should. I will never stop talking about you and I will never stop
telling your stories. I will always be grateful that God gave me you and for
all the memories I have of our life together. I will always feel blessed to continue
my life on earth and that I get to do that with your brothers and your
daughter. I will always welcome the day that God brings me home to be with you
again. Son, you were my first born, my first baby love, and my hardest journey
of grief. You will always be a light in my heart, and I will always share our
story. Keep a light on for me. I will be there one day, but I have a lot more
life to do with your brothers, daughters, nieces, nephews, cousins… well, you
get the idea. I am doing exactly what you would want… I am living the life I am
blessed with. Until we meet again my sweet boy, I love you forever and always.
Love, Mom 💓
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