Four years. Four years later. And still I struggle. Not every day. But enough.
The reminders that won’t let me forget.
Seeing my daughter doing the things my son should have been doing four years ago. Climbing, running, not needing to hold the walls to walk down the hallway as he did at the end.
The surgical scar on the back of my son’s neck echoed in the scar on my soul.
The checkups, though now yearly, renew my fears… what if…
When does this end? When do I get closure?
When it’s been five years since the tumor was successfully removed? When my son gets to go to prom like the diagnosing neurologist essentially promised us? Or goes to college? Gets his first job? Gets married? Has kids of his own?
Do I get closure? Or is closure bullshit?
Yes, it does get easier. Yes, I’ve gone on with my life. But some days (most days?) I’m not convinced it’ll ever really be over, that the door on this chapter of my life will ever really close. Rather I feel that this chapter is just beginning and it’s a long one.
I try to console myself, thinking it’s okay to feel this way, that it never ends. I can be okay with that. Right?
And yet… And so… this is where I am left… my son is alive and well. Why can’t I let go of the past?
Why won’t it let go of me?
I can’t imagine you would ever get over seeing your child go through something like that. {{{Hugs}}}
I can imagine it (my daughter had surgery on her brain as well)and I know how terrifying it can feel. My only suggestion is to be patient with yourself and to try to write it down – that’s how I worked out a lot of it.
I hope that you are able to find peace. Sometimes it comes in the smallest of things, in the most unexpected places.
Yeah. For better or worse, some images from that time are permanently etched in brain.
Thank you…
Beautiful… thank you, Amy…
his really hit me..probably because you used the word “closure”. which is anathema to me.
my husband is dead and there is no closure, there is no hope, no second chance.and i can see where that is the same for you…you lived thru this scary time and you don’t know what tomorrow will bring. i get it.
there is no closure..there is just what’s next.
it made me so happy to read that your son was alive, surviving.
THAT’S what’s next for you. hang in….i’m happy for you and so sad for your loss of innocence
Leanne, this is perfect. It captures the feelings in my head perfectly.
And oh, not to have these feelings in our heads, Becky…
Michele, I am so sorry for your loss. But thank you for this: “there is just what’s next.”
i agree with Becky. your words capture the feeling perfectly. the only thing you left out is the guilt i feel that i still get stopped in my tracks by sadness and terror instead of appreciating the blessing that is my healthy child NOW.