15

As a family, we recently stood together to watch my son, Nicholas, as he was promoted from eighth grade to high school. Like most events in our lives that have happened over the last 15 years, there is always a feeling like something is missing. No, more like someone is missing.

This year marks another milestone that none of us want to remember but realize it will happen whether we want it to or not. For me, it somewhat takes my breath away because it’s hard to believe we’ve lived in a world without my (step)son, Timothy, for this long.

We lost Tim on June 14, 2009. It’s a day and a chain of events that will be etched in my brain for the rest of my life… the phone call, the hours of driving through the night in silence to an unknown hospital in an even less known city, and to finally see him unrecognizable from his injuries, no longer truly here with us, just his body. 18, and gone. That day, that fucking day, always and forever stained on my brain.

Since he’s been gone, Tim’s missed countless…
• Christmases
• Fourth of Julys
• Thanksgivings
• Memorial Day Weekends
• Chances to Open His Grandma’s Pool for the Summer
• Vacations and Other Adventures
• Birthdays
• And, numerous other memories that many of us wish he were here to experience alongside us.

Of the many life lessons that Timothy taught me during his short life and my time spent with him, one that is never far from my mind is ‘never lack the confidence in yourself to do what you want to do,’ and ‘if you don’t have it at that very moment, fake it until you make it.’ I’ve held onto that advice for the better part of my life now, most of my career and in pursuing my dreams with his cocky voice still chirping in my ear, helping me to just stand up and do it. He was wise beyond his years and loved by many.  

During his teen years, he did enough things to typically make my heart beat out of my chest in fear and trepidation from four-wheelers to cliff jumping to driving fast cars. But that’s who he was to the core.

The pain of losing a child never fully goes away, and moving on is more like inching forward with a new kind of ache in your heart and sadness behind your eyes. From time to time, I have had people who just don’t grasp this type of pain, ask why haven’t we moved on, and my simple reply is, “Have you ever lost a child?” My question is not meant to shock or cause upset, but to help anyone understand this kind of loss never goes away, rather it fades to more of an annoying dull. All to often, we feel alone and standing by ourselves on this island of grief and desperation.

“Grief is a curious thing, when it happens unexpectedly. It is a band-aid being ripped away, taking the top layer off a family. And the underbelly of a household is never pretty, ours is no exception.” – Jodi Picoult

This type of pain sticks with you like glue and helps you see how truly precious life really is. How easily it can be stripped from you in the blink of an eye. It hides behind every one of your smiles, and it dims every sparkle in your eyes. Fifteen years ago, we lost a piece of our hearts forever that we were never able to get back. It’s something that perpetually changes who you are as a person.

But, time, life, faith and God continue to show us the way to keep moving a little more each day. When all those years ago, our lives seemed impossible to live minute to minute. Now, our lives seem to never stop moving… a series of work, practices, games, meets, rushed mornings, hurried evenings and like Groundhog day, it seems to happen all over again the next day. The children we are still blessed to be raising keep getting older, our careers keep expanding, families continue growing and sometimes when you want to put up a hand to say “Stop!,” you don’t because what’s the point. But, good things do happen, life does give us blessings and sometimes we need to be happy for the air in our lungs and the sun on our faces.

We have our days when the tears come for no reason, and the sudden urge to hold his picture, or run to the cemetery or even just have a conversation with him no matter where we are. These are the only ways to calm down our brains and our hearts long enough to breathe again.

Our lives have continued to move day by day, and without much notice year to year. We listen to songs to find solace, watch his favorite movies with the hope to find a piece of him, travel to his favorite places just to feel him near and look to the stars for the hope that one day we’ll catch a glimpse of Timothy watching over us.  

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest.” – Jamie Anderson