A Season of Firsts
I made a vow when I spoke at your service, To keep your memory alive.
As your mom, this sharing, is in service to that vow…
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Thus begins a season of firsts.
The first birthday that you aren’t here.
My first birthday that you aren’t here.
Your brother’s birthday.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years,
Jacob and Eliza’s birthdays.
All in the span of a few months.
This doesn’t count the things we would have been doing in between.
Pumpkin carving, making gingerbread houses. Cooking Green Bean Casserole. kitchen dance parties….
Cake, presents, hiking, the indoor amusement park.
All if the yearly stuff.
Stuff that is all up as a question now.
How do we do it without you?
How do we not do it?
My heart just aches.
Today I’m not ok.
Your birthday is today.
23 years ago today, I was in labor.
Finally being escorted to a room.
You came into the world at 3:29 pm
Of course, of all the kids, your entry into the world was text book smooth.
Our bodies worked together in perfect unison to bring you earthside.
Everything about that entire pregnancy was a dream.
Aside from the fact that you kept falling asleep and not moving.
Scaring even the Drs.
I once saw an emergency Dr in one of your long snoozes, who used a electro-larynx tracheotomy device to buzz you awake so that we knew you weren't in distress.
You had me on the edge of life and death even then.
You would continue that way the whole of your life.
You were a high octane kid.
Someone who loved the thrill of adrenaline.
High powered bike tricks. Flips, jumps, speed.
Never mind the death defying accidents.
Your life was a study in how to live fearlessly.
You used that fearlessness to accomplish your goals.
By the time you were 17 you had recorded the music you wrote.
Your life’s dream.
I’m still working on mine.
It only occurred to me recently how rare it is for a human now a days to be able to say they’ve accomplished their life’s goal.
But you did.
Unstoppable in that way.
I miss you.
It hurts a hurt that no words can adequately describe.
That no belief about eternity can adequately comfort.
I just miss you.
I long to touch you. Run my fingers through your hair.
And you aren’t here.
The reality of that feels especially cruel today.
My body knows I’m supposed to have a child in my arms come the afternoon.
And my arms will be empty.
It's funny how the body knows. It just does.
So far I’ve rocked your shoes, hugged your pillow, and kissed your picture.
Sat with your urn in my lap.
I just want to wrap my body around something that is yours.
Some way to connect with you that’s tangible.
Look for us this evening at sunset. The same place we went the evening that you died.
We will be there with a gift for you.
Happy birthday love of my life.
May you blessed.
-Mom
Please join me in Remembering Tanner on his birthday.
