Milestones

February 6, 2018

In the last two months, I have jumped over hurdles; some people like to call them milestones. Trudging through the vast valley of suffering has been exceedingly difficult lately. Mikey and Megan were with me on Christmas this year; the day was pretty good. It was almost like it was on cruise control. Then we all spoke about our “favorite part of the day” as we do every night; taking it a step further, we spoke of what we were grateful for. The answers around the table were pretty basic until Mikey spoke up. He told everyone at the table that he was grateful that he got to share a room with his “dead brother,” then went on explaining how great it was to give Mason bottles when he was going to sleep. He talked about him, giggled, and shared…just beaming with joy at the thought of Mason. I don’t know what hurts more, knowing that Mason is gone or knowing that my children are going to have to survive this life without him.

The next few hurdles were not as big, but hurdles nonetheless. Starting 2018, turning 30, Megan’s 7th birthday, finalizing the divorce, and taking steps towards starting a business. The icing on the cake was certainly day 661 (January 21st).

Since Mason’s death, I have talked about living life like I only have 660 days left. I have passionately lived, not wasting time on people or things that I don’t have a desire to be around. Day 661 was heart-wrenchingly horrible. I literally had to pick myself up off the floor and decide how I would go on. Did anything change? Nope, I still have a dead child, I still have to survive. Why did this feel different? Well, It reminded me that I am human and I am allowed to struggle to breathe sometimes. It reminded me to be humble and respect the power of grief. It reminded me that in order to feel this much pain, I must have been lucky enough to love deeply. I was shattered, feeling day 660 approaching, knowing that I had lived longer without my son than I had with him. Deciding to continue living life like I only have 660 days left wasn’t easy. Part of me wanted to give up; part of me wanted to revert back to the old me, the me with little perspective and less appreciation for life. However, after much contemplation, I decided that I wanted to live.

Not just the regular living, but the crazy good living. The living that fills my heart and satisfies my insatiable desire to find joy. My goal is to be like Mason (not in every way… I mean, I don’t want to poop my pants). But, if I could spread HALF the joy that he did, I think it could be considered a win. I will strive for that, strive to be a better person capable of spreading joy.

I miss Mason; I miss the late nights that I got to sing to him, his squishy face pressing against my chest as he drifted off to sleep, his random dance parties, and the way he smelled. I miss his tears… and the magical healing powers of my kiss. Every cell in my body wants to care for, hold, and be with him. I know missing Mason isn’t going to go away, but I am trying to use the pain and sorrow as a reminder to live well. I recognize now more than ever that life is too short not to.

Cheers to 2018, friends. Cheers to deciding to live well, deciding to love like you only have 660 days left, deciding to spread joy, and deciding to dance like no one is watching. Cheers to LIVING this year. Every piece of me believes that 2018 is going to be the best year of my life.