Missing him

Hubbie is away this week. My heart aches for him to be here next to me at night. This is the loneliest time of the day. The kids are asleep and I should be too, only I can't seem to. So, I read here and think about how I would like to be making more of a difference in the lives of other people who have had this same tragic loss. Somehow bringing something "good" from such a "bad" experience seems like the only real justification to it all. It just seems like it would be a tribute to Andrew and give even more worth to his brief life.

Why does this life include so much pain? Why is it that such tragic and heart wrenching things can happen in this life when a person is doing their best and genuinely being a decent human being. I mean, I don't hurt others intentionally. I work my job every day, I am honest and fair, I genuinely try to be a decent member of society. What did I ever do to deserve the shit of losing a son?

I had a very interesting conversation with a woman at work today. She is now single and living after two brain surgeries to remove a brain tumor. She lost the sight in one eye permanently and is now disabled and no longer working. She made the comment that her tumor had been a "blessing". It "gave her back her life". She indicated that her health issues resulted in her leaving a bad marriage and moving on to rekindle relationships with friends and family who actually loved her and had her best interests at hear. She now spends her days volunteering, supporting a wonderful "ex" mother in-law, and attending college via a senior citizen's program. She will likely be renting from my organization very soon. She's loving life. In many ways I envy her.

At what point do I learn to "love life" again and say that Andrew's loss was a "blessing". I say probably never. Although I do not walk in the same darkness that enveloped me for so long after Andrew's death, I still feel the aftermath of his loss. I would however love to be able to move forward and say that Andrew's brief life inspired me to do something wonderful. I'm just no so sure what that is yet. Nor do I have the courage to pursue it, as of yet.

I want so much to continue writing the next portion of "our story" describing our experience of Andrew's loss after the initial appointment where we were told that he had died. I just feel as thought it's going to take quite some time and be overwhelming to relive it again, so close to his birth/death date. Maybe on Sunday, his anniversary I'll have the motivation and courage to work on this piece. We'll see.

For now, I miss my husband. I need his warm back to rest my head on and his wonderful ability to listen to my blather.