What You Don't See

Tomorrow will be 14 months since Dan & I lost our son. Fourteen months since our world fell apart. Much has changed in that time. But one thing that hasn't changed is our Grief. Except I think many people believe that it has. They assume because they have moved on, that we must have as well. But they didn't lose their child. And that makes all the difference. They see us laughing, joking, having fun, being silly, going to work, and being normal, so we must be ok, right? Wrong.
Normal stopped for us on August 4, 2012. There is no normal anymore, and there never will be again. When you lose your child, you lose yourself. We will never be the same people we were 14 months ago.
One big thing you learn (and quickly) when you lose a child is that most people can't and don't want to deal with it. It's awkward and uncomfortable for them. So you learn to hide it. You put on fake smiles and happy faces and you pretend. If you LOOK ok, people assume you are ok, and that makes them feel better. But what they don't see is that we really aren't better. We still miss our son with every fiber of our being. We still cry, a lot. We still get angry, and can't accept the fact that he is never coming home. We still get depressed. We still struggle to get out of bed most days, and we are still grieving.
There is hardly a minute that goes by that I don't think about Zach. Every song, TV show, movie, and conversation brings up some thought or memory of him. I still can't see a car accident, or hear about one, without getting instantly sick to my stomach. I avoid situations where there are a lot of children, because it's too hard most days. I lie awake at night, and think about the what ifs, the regrets and the guilt. I dream of him, and wake up only to realize it wasn't real, and he's still gone. I still reach for his favorite snacks at the grocery store, pick up my phone to text him something funny, and do a double take when I see someone who looks like him. I look at my husband, and see the heartbreak in his eyes, and would do anything to give him his little buddy back. I hear friends complain about silly little things, and struggle not to snap at them about how lucky  they are. I think about the future, and wonder about the what haves. What kind of husband or father would he have been? What kind of grandparents and in laws would we have been? Would we have all stayed close, or would we eventually start to grow apart? I think about the past, and I question whether or not he knew how much I loved him. I regret all the times I was impatient, frustrated or too tired.
It's been 14 months, and I am still grieving. And in another 14 months, or 3 years, or 20 years... I will STILL be grieving. Just because you can't see something, doesn't make it any less real. And our Grief is very real to us. It is a constant battle, and those smiles and laughs that you see are hard earned.