I used to wonder a lot, now I guess I wonder every now and then if I’m normal. If I’m like other folks.
I lost a son years ago. I rarely consider it now. Occasionally when I look at my oldest boy now I think about the one I lost. I wonder if I could have possibly loved Ziggy as much as I love Duncan. Perhaps.
Today’s the day Ziggy was born. He was born, lived, and died all in 3 days. Short, sharp, shock. Very, painful for a number of what I thought were extenuating circumstances but, who, who loses someone, doesn’t have extenuating circumstances.
I have been sad today—working, so that’s good. But irritable, easily annoyed. Prickly. I’ve known it was the anniversary of Ziggy’s birth. Didn’t consider it to have any impact on me. But it does. Good to acknowledge it. At least I know what’s going on.
I’m sad. If I consider it long I get angry. I feel ripped off like some bastard stole into my home and took him. Been lots of years and I’m still angry. Many, many years ago someone told me being angry wasn’t as helpful as learning from what happened. Learn. I really took that to heart. I love to learn and even if I iterate slowly or perhaps in too small increments I do iterate. I did though think I was further along than this.
I suppose tomorrow, or the next day it’ll be far away again—maybe I will indeed be further away from it then. How do people do it when they lose kids that are older? How do they keep going? I know why people don’t think about it—it’s frightening.
I’ll go to bed tonight grateful for the family I have, knowing how, fleeting, fragile and precious they are.
And I’ll know that I’m just like everyone else.
