I Miss My Son

Joe and I were a lot alike, despite our many differences. There's a picture of him somewhere flipping off the photographer at family get-together. He was probably somewhere around 4 years old. We argued a lot and I'm not quite sure we always understood each other. But, I loved him a lot and miss him dearly. Not a day goes by that I don't fight off tears. I go from silence, to sad, to completely despondent, then anger. It all goes full cycle right back to the silence.

I don't discuss it much. Mostly because I still cannot control my emotions whenever I think about everything for too long. In my mind I attempt to dissolve the bad memories from his last couple of years with us. I try to focus on the better times we shared, and those days he made me proud to be his dad. There were many such times, though I know now that I never told him often enough.

I wind my way through my current life, pretending I'm the same, but I'm not. I smile with my lips, but there's not much of happiness in my soul. Most days I feel like a zombie. Just going through the motions. I stopped posting about Joe because of the way people reacted to my overwhelming sadness. Something, that at the time made me quite irate. Most people won't ever understand, and that's okay. I wouldn't want them to.

With the anniversary of Jojo's death near at hand, I find myself still struggling to cope with the loss. Still struggle with questions that have no answers. Still flounder through waves of emotion that have me feel like a man drowning in quicksand.

I've noticed over time that certain people are consciously avoiding me, and others avoiding prolonged conversation. Others just look, and I feel their eyes. I'm the guy who's son is dead. I see the thoughts behind their eyes. I hear inside my mind their pity or apathy. Neither fazes me all that much. I'm a zombie just flowing through the motions.....

I watch my daughter, and wife struggle too. That may be the second worst part of it all. The 3 of us floating around in this limbo of emotional overload, and none of us knowing exactly what to say to the others. The house is different these days. Eggshells are everywhere and we tend to step lightly. We will someday emerge with a better understanding, though I fear that Joe's passing will forever haunt us.

In the end, I suppose we're all doing as well as we can with it. Don't pity us. Don't avoid us. We're much the same as we ever were. There's just an unending, underlying sadness that we just can't shake. Forgive us for that.