January 2, 2023

Sometimes the failures are all a parent can see, how I didn’t listen, how I misunderstood, how I wasn’t able.  There’s nothing to defend.  It’s just a fact.  Sometimes the failures are in front of your face as a parent. I don’t know if my child would understand. I want to suppose that they became something else, an afterwards.  I want to have faith in the religion I practice, but it is difficult at the six month mark.  My child died six months ago today, and it is also my father’s birthday – after many many years of surviving his death by a brain tumor (lung cancer) but still it was a similar death.  They both knew they were dying.  I was pretty close to my father’s passing.  I was there the night he died, but not at the moment.  With my child, I was looking away into the eyes of a long-trusted friend.  We were surprised and also not surprised.  

 

When I think of losing my only child, I remember that we were just into their seventeenth year receiving a cancer diagnosis with no cure. Can you imagine dying at seventeen?  And yet, my beautiful child faced death head on.  They lived for two more years.  I sign forever19 often on social media posts, but I am also moving away from that. It’s a little much the Tik Toks.  What do I have to offer?  I am looking at art and listening to music.  Take in the nature.  I go for walks. I'm in a group.  Everyone who's lost a child is ripped into two pieces.  It's just a fact, folks. 

I have a little consolation at times.  Here’s a link to the song that really gave me some hope.  It's a sad song by Janis Ian, and it's perfectly beautiful.  I'd put it on my Facebook post a week ago or so.  It’s from the Foo Fighters concert for Hannukah. Watch it.  It’s beautiful. 

 

 

What more can I say after six months of the most profound pain and loss?  I’m coping.  We are coping.  We got to see so many people in our grief journey, old friends, people who are like family – actual family.  And in each of those visits, there was so much love.  That’s what matters.  There is love.  Everything else is just a balance sheet – cash, prizes, diplomas – it matters, but the love is really the thing. So, Happy birthday Aleco.  And I miss you so much that I can’t breathe some days.  And it is everything to remember all the ways I failed so boldly – trying to stop the inevitable.  

So, I wish you peace in the New Year.  And I wish you a string of failures that break you open and teach you everything that you need to learn about love.  May God Bless Bless and Keep You Until We Meet Again.