... and I really don't want to deal with it. Or ... whatever.
Last weekend there was a candle-lighting ceremony and memorial for the babies lost and I didn't go. I thought about it, then didn't. I just couldn't fathom going and being around other people's grief. I don't want to cry. I don't want to wallow in loss.
It doesn't mean I don't want to honor or remember my son. I think about him every single day. And I hope that me living my life, moving forward, and continuing on is honoring him. I don't see how lighting a candle or commiserating with other mothers who've lost their children would make me feel any better. Rather, I feel like it would just bring me down.
I often wonder if I'm just in denial and am playing avoidance as to escape the pain.
I feel it sneak up sometimes. The other night I had a nightmare, a reliving of his birth again. The silence so very deafening. I woke up mad. Not sad, not crying, just mad. That should have been a wonderful, beautiful, full-of-life moment and it was death, silence, and stunning pain. There is no physical pain that can compare.
I am sure those things will come up more in the next month. Only one month and it will be the anniversary of his death. His delivery. His funeral. Everything that sucked about last year.
I feel anxious when I think about his approaching dates. When I think of taking him balloons to his grave instead of a cake and celebration with friends for his birthday. I'm just ready to get past those dates and look forward ... the past is too painful to continue to be reminded of what all we've lost.. .. ..
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