A New Year

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and I've made a resolution to post more to this blog.  But what should my focus be?  I don't know, but I'll find out as I begin to put pen - or keyboard - to paper.

This is our second Christmas season without Lacy.  It is harder than the first, because now this is final.  My greatest fear is forgetting him - his voice and his personality.  My heart aches when I realize how long it has been since I held his hand or hugged him.  I miss his voice and his love.  However, even when I feel this way, a memory will come to me, or I'll be reminded of a funny story, and I am comforted. 

Kenny and I have begun to explore interests we had put off for many years.  We are both getting involved in community theater, and we are becoming more involved in church and volunteering.  We are looking at retirement in the next (very) few years.  We are traveling and planning travel.  In July, we celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary with a trip to Canada. 

At last, I am ready to re arrange Lacy's room so that it is not a static memorial to him.  I want to distribute the pictures and artifacts around the house, and create a more neutral space for our guests.  While I can go in his room, shut the door, and see Lacy everywhere, I'm ready to scatter those sacred objects around our house now. 

There is still a sort of survivor's guilt that wells up.  I'm alive, living, moving on, and Lacy is getting smaller in that rear-view mirror.  Still, he's always with us because he's always in our hearts. 

There will  never be a time when I won't feel that lump in my throat as I think of my son.  I'll live with this grief for the rest of my life, but I will still reach for life, and try to live in a way that honors Lacy's extraordinary capacity for joy, for life, and for happiness. 

See you soon on the computer screen. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Suddenly...It's Spring

Spring comes without warning, it seems.  Suddenly everything is green, flowers are blooming, and the world is waking up.  New life is everywhere.  Robins are hopping around our backyard, some are building nests in nearby trees and shrubs.  There is an expectancy in the air. The cycle of grief is a recursive one.  Back and forth it seems to go for months on end.  Great sadness, numbness, depression, exhaustion; until one day a memory comes and it is not painful but poignant.  Rather than a tear falling, a smile comes and with it a hint of joy and a lightness of spirit. Ten months have passed since we lost our Lacy.  We made it through some big firsts; birthday, Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas.  The anniversary date of his home-going is not far away. In these ten months, Kenny and I have begun to find our way into new patterns and traditions. Sunday afternoons have become a time for visiting friends, enjoying walks, or just relaxing...
Read more

Countdown

Four weeks from today will be two years since we lost Lacy. I keep getting reminders on my Facebook feed of the last few weeks of Lacy's life.  The last year, I took a picture of him every week.  I wanted to make sure I could remember him, and the good - and bad - times we had together. I feel a sense of dread about May 28.  I am thankful that it falls on Memorial Day, so we will not have to go to work.  I am also thankful that we took every opportunity to spend time with him.  The last time was 5pm on May 27, 2016.  Nine hours later, he was gone. As I drove away from the nursing home that evening, a scripture popped into my head:  ...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection... (Philippians 3:10) That power has sustained us for nearly two years.
Read more

Day by Day

Alan is doing better since his hospitalization.  His outbursts are fewer, and are less "pitched" than before his med changes.  The staff assigned to him at his group home are doing well with him.  They have to pick their battles, as we all do, and are trying to keep him to a schedule. We took Alan to his neurology appointment this week.  Usually when someone asks Alan how he is doing, he just says "fine," but on this day he answered, "My knees are weak, and I have to lean over and hold on to things." After examination, Alan's doctor recommended physical therapy, as Alan is perilously close to falling.  While we don't know if Alan will be able to follow a therapists directions, or will even want to cooperate, we will arrange for a consultation. I can deal with the nuts and bolts of being an advocate and sometimes caregiver for my son, but I find it hard to maintain the focus I need when I hear his say that he is having trouble walking.  It is ...
Read more