Grief: Season 2

I get asked "How are you?" or "How are you doing?" a great deal these days. And as much as I am so very grateful for the care and concern behind the question, I honestly don't know how to answer it. To most people, I say "Fine." or "Doing ok." because that is the easiest response, and generally what people want to hear. To the ones who I think honestly want to know, I have no answer. Or at least not one that can easily be put into words. The real answer is that I am a mess. I may look put together on the outside, but inside is an entirely different story. I have learned to fake being normal quite well. For the most part, I can go about my business and do everyday things while keeping my emotions in check. 'For the most part' being the key phrase there. But the truth is, I feel anything but normal. To be honest, I am not even sure what normal is anymore, and I doubt I will ever feel normal again. So what do I feel? I feel.... like a shell. My body looks the same as it always did, but now it is just a mask. A costume of me. I am merely an actress playing the part of Teena. At least that's how it feels most of the time. The pain is all consuming. There is nothing that I see or do that doesn't bring up thoughts of my son. And even the happy thoughts and memories are accompanied by pain. I am constantly torn between wanting to remember and trying to forget. I want to remember him as he was, and forget that he is gone. I want to see his smile, and forget how he looked in the hospital. I want to recall all the good, and forget the bad. I want to live in denial of the fact that he isn't coming home, but I can't. I want to scream to the Heavens and beg for him back, though I know that it will do no good. This is my constant internal struggle. I want to honor my promise to him, and try and find the joy in life again, but it is so hard. So I get up, and go with the motions. I may even laugh or smile and joke, but I don't feel it. Not really. I just feel empty.
Next week is Thanksgiving. A day to give thanks for all that we have, for the blessings in our lives. I don't feel very grateful these days. I'm sure I should. I still have a lot to be thankful for, but I don't care about any of it. Thanksgiving is also the official start to the holiday season. A reminder that Christmas is right around the corner. I am not celebrating it this year. I just can't. It's too painful. December is probably going to be the hardest month yet. Zachary would've been 19 on December 4th. Instead we will mark the 4 month anniversary of his passing. Not exactly cause for celebration. There won't be balloons and cake. No singing Happy Birthday and teasing him about being old enough to drink in Canada now. Nothing. Just a never ending sadness. Follow that up with Christmas? No thanks. Just being in the stores and seeing all the decorations and stuff is incredibly difficult. I don't want to hear the music. I don't want to see the lights. My list to Santa is short. I only want one thing. I want my son back. Nothing else matters. So I plan on skipping it this year. And maybe every year from now on.
So if you are reading this, I apologize in advance for my lack of cheer and jolliness. If you come to our house, don't expect to see a tree, or festive decor. You won't be getting a card from us either. We still love you, and hope that you have a wonderful holiday, but you'll just have to forgive us if we don't seem real into it. Please just be understanding, and try not to think too harshly of us if we choose to skip your dinner or party, as well. I will try to keep my feelings to myself, but if they slip out from time to time, try not to judge me.

My Boy Child and I in our ugly sweaters. Christmas 2011. Our last Christmas together...