Or at least I want to be.

I realize I’m trying to freeze time for myself. I’m helping my surviving children to move forward by supporting their endeavors at school and encouraging Teen the Elder as he applies to colleges and completes the testing the schools require (770 on his Literature and Math 2 SAT subjects tests, and 800 on his Physics SAT subjects test-it’s my blog. I can brag if I want to). John has made progress with setting up his home office with my assistance. But me, I’m frozen, content to sit on the couch all day.

I think I figured out why I don’t feel ready to go back to work. I mean besides the crying off and on all day long. Besides the lack of focus and lack of sleep. Besides the angry outbursts. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything. I go for walks. I take care of my family-plan meals for the week, shop, cook, do laundry. But none of that’s my life really.

You see if I go back to work then I’d be moving on with my life, and if I move on with my life then the space between me and Sam will grow. Right now I don’t feel too different from the way I felt in the moments after Sam died. And if I stay on the couch and do nothing more mentally taxing than attempt for bazillionth time to beat level 147 on Candy Crush (curse you, Candy Crush!), then it’s as if time hasn’t passed.

But time is passing. 11 days after Sam’s death we experienced our first Halloween without him. In November we observed John’s birthday, Chanukah, and Thanksgiving despite the hole in our family. We’ve marked one month since he died, then two. We went on our first road trip without him, and ate out for the first time (“Table for 5, please…I mean 4.”). In December we went to the movies as a family of 4, and talked about the last time we had been there with Sam.

At the start of each month I’ve woken up thinking of Sam and how this is a month he will never see. This is a month in which we will be entirely without him.

2013 is coming to an end. Sam was here for 2013. We sipped sparkling apple cider at midnight New Foundland time, and hoped 2013 would bring the shrinking or at least stabilization of his tumor. We didn’t get what we wanted. One could argue that 2013 has been the absolute, hands-down, worst year of my life. But I don’t want it to end.

With the end of 2013 comes the start of a year Sam will never see; the continuation of a year of firsts we do not celebrate. 2014 propels me into a future without Sam. 2014 pulls me further away from him, but no closer to anything else I can see.

That’s it. There will be no wise conclusion to this post. Don’t expect a, “Happy New Year!” from me. I am frozen.

  • Pamela McConal
    Posted at 01:37h, 01 January

    I know there will be no happy new year for you. Not for a long while. You are an amazing writer and should consider writing a book. I've never felt emotion as real as what you blog.

  • bevbird
    Posted at 17:35h, 01 January

    I agree completely. You should try to publish your blog. It may help others who are where you are and not able to express it so completely and so well. I know that this was going to be a harder time for you than the waiting time before Sam died, but you will get through it, by doing what you are doing. so many people are praying for you.

  • Deborah Murphy
    Posted at 10:29h, 08 January

    I found your blog from a link on Superman Sam's blog. I went back and read all of your posts, and I could tell what a special boy your Sam was and what a wonderful and loving family you have, and what an amazing mom you are.

    I want you to know how much I appreciate your writing about your beautiful son Sam and about your grief and struggles to cope with his death. I understand your grief and your guilt. Take whatever time you need to heal. But I hope you will also come to know that you did everything you could for Sam. When you are ready to move forward, you will know it. And you'll know you will never move away from Sam. You'll always carry him with you.

    –Those SAT scores are awesome! Congrats!

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