As I put on my facebook and twitter status the other day "sometimes the grief is so much I can breathe". Up until the other day I felt like I was doing okay, like I was in a good place. I know Keegan is in Heaven free of pain and running around like a normal 2 year old, but my heart breaks in a different way each and every day. I am friends with lots of people on facebook that are in very similar and very tragic stories. One of them Mrs. Linca was asked by a friend to describe what it was like to loose a child to cancer. These are her words and I could not say them any better than she:
I told her for me it was like getting into a horrible car accident and your child dies, and you are left with every bone in your body broken. You can't breathe without it hurting. You don't want to get up, you don't want to move, every step in your life aches with the agony and pain of your child being gone, there is no pain medication that can ease the torture, there is no moment in your life where you aren't thinking about what you did wrong, that this is somehow your fault, that you are being punished, that you missed some vital clue that caused their death, that maybe its your genetics, that maybe you fed them something that caused the cancer to come in the first place, that maybe you chose the wrong doctors, hospitals, why did this child have to die, you comb thru your life trying to answer the infernal question ...why why why?? Then then the rest of your life, you are permanently disfigured, forever crippled and weak... but nobody can see it. Its your own internal nightmare.
I don't want cancer to keep winning! I think its about time for some sort of support group. I can hardly look at pictures or think of memories without breaking down. I know, most of you will say that is "normal", but goodness it's really no way to live. I want to talk about him without getting that lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I want to tell great stories about us and our adventures but I can't, right now it's too much.
Our house is on the market we are in the process of purchasing a new one for a "fresh start" and I have put off an open house for this coming Sunday because I am in no way, shape, or form ready to clean up his room. I don't know why either, he stayed in our room 97% of his life. We did move his crib back into his room a few weeks ago which is still filled with his favorite books, his blanket and other meaningful items. The floor and full sized bed are scattered with his favorite toys like his stage, his top 5 favorite books that we would read over and over and over again till we all had them memorized, the Little Tikes Piano he banged on since one of our hospital stays at Riley and his Little Tikes rocking chair/police cruiser. I just can't do it.
I picked Ry up from the airport last week. He had been gone for about a week and half. I picked him up late, sometime around 8:30 or so. I got very upset and ultimately cried when I realized it should have been our small little family reunited after a week and half. Two parents and a child whom they love more than anything on this earth, but it wasn't. It was me, all by myself picking up my husband. It's the "what should be's" and the "He should be with us for this" that give me the hardest time. I don't think that will ever pass.
Ryan and I at Keegan's celebration of Life (Keegan's slideshow in the background).