So last year at this time I celebrated with my wife and sons. I looked forward to a good year… and I didn’t know.
I didn’t know last Christmas was the last I would spend with my son Ethan.
I didn’t know that last year’s new year’s eve was his last.
2013 actually started okay. I don’t remember much. The last time Ethan was home was this operation fuzzy something or other… Justin snuck up to Fresno and brought Ethan down for Marquita’s birthday in February. And then he went home and a month later was dead.
The rest of the year was consumed with shock, numbness, pain and grief.
And I can talk about those “positive” things… about the people who surrounded us with love and support… who basically picked us up off the floor and cared for us. Those that helped with the logistical tasks of wrapping up a life… or of a trip to Yosemite…
But one specific event will always mark 2013. And the rest of the year… the final eight and a half months– it’s going to be a blurr… a jumble.
So I celebrate the passing of one year… the year I lost my son. The year that will contain, forever, the worst day of my life.
I know the coming year will be better.
