As May 30 approaches, I can sense many feelings coming on. It will be two years ago that my eldest, 24 year-old son, Levi, left this earth. It was unexpected, shocking, and unbelievable. As I sit here and think over these months, I can hardly comprehend that that much time as passed; yet simultaneously feeling like it’s been decades since I’ve seen or touched him.
How is that possible? What a strange concept, time is!
What do I want to share with you about this “anniversary?” First of all, I dislike that word greatly. It is NOT a day of celebration, although I have assurance he is at full and complete peace and rest now, so HE is enjoying himself greatly!
For me, the first year was encumbered by disbelief and just plain sadness and grief. Every day was met with and played out like a bad dream, swirling with the same thoughts—and finally coming to a close of yielding to allow my mind and body some semblance of rest.
As the second year closes, the feelings seem to have shifted to an unending hole of emptiness. This may sound gruesome in itself, and like no progress has been made at all, but the overall sorrow isn’t all consuming like it once was. But when it rears its’ horrible head, the weight seems just as heavy as when it first happened. The memories and reality of what has happened are tamped down a bit, but always met with the fact that he isn’t coming home. I will have to go to him, and I have no control over when that day might be.
And so, I wait, and do my best to keep his memory alive, his life remembered as one of purpose, love, compassion, and meaning; relenting to the things that will always be difficult and incomprehensible, and trudging through the myriad of emotions and feelings that come and go. May we all endeavor to do their memory justice!
