Ty is in every star in the sky. Every setting sun. The embrace of every warm breeze. But with all of the hope that I hold in my heart, it doesn't help me escape the fact that I miss everything about him, every second of the day. Ty, baby, I miss your soft hair. Your breath. Your high-pitched baby voice. Your smell and how your skin smelled different from your hair and your neck smelled different from your feet. But most of all, your smile. You went through hell. More than I have even shared on this blog because yes, your pain over the past two years was that bad. But you smiled all the time. Regardless. You loved it. You yearned for it. You truly wanted to be happy. And you allowed yourself to be happy despite it all.
Remember that the next time you think "if only I could be happy!" Look at how funny Ty thinks this is. We took all of Gavin's toys and put them on the couch to watch Toy Story with the guys. Ty thought it was the funniest idea in the whole world. So simple. That's what makes him the most amazing boy that ever lived :) Happiness should be this simple.
Life is moving on without Ty, though, whether I like it or not. I don't get to stop time. I had to move on or die myself because people depend on me and my family is everything. I have wanted to quit many things in life, but I would never quit living. Especially because I know this isn't the end of Ty and me. I will see him again. And I do still (in the clouds, the falling leaves, the rainbows and yes, the ladybugs). I look for him constantly.
Today was one of my worst days with Gavin in a long time. Through no fault of his own, I found myself having so little patience for him. I hate it, especially because it is the exact opposite of what I preach. I was very aware of it, so I think I was able to hide it well from him, but it was so hard. There was no school today and he is usually so independent, but today he was yelling for "Maaa-Meee!" every three seconds. I wanted to curse and scream each time! I wanted so much to enjoy my Gavin, but today I just couldn't shake the funk. We did have a very long story time (almost 45 minutes - he just LOVES books) and we did have a nice dinner tonight. Other than that, I can only be honest to admit that I was happy for it to be dark out and ready for bed. Through no fault of his own, I just couldn't do it today. Sadly, I can't even say I did do it today, because I sought reprieve at my mother-in-law's where I dropped him off so I could go to the office and escape for a couple of hours.
This is because, at least for me, grief comes in spurts. Obviously, I've had a few particularly bad days in a row. I know this is cyclical and I am already better today than yesterday, but it just exists, it comes and goes, and that's all there is to it.
I just want my life back with Ty. Even at his worst, at least he was with me.
I think I have learned about how my grief seems to hit me. It comes in like a tsunami. Totally unexpected, while I am otherwise reading a magazine and almost even relaxing in the breezy sunshine on a lounge chair. It is merciless. It removes me from everyone around me and I am left to hold onto whatever might be in my reach just to keep my head above water. Alone without any help. Some offer to help. They say "i am here for you" and I am so grateful for that, but they are simply out of reach. When the water subsides and I am surrounded by death, destruction and devastation, I am left to feel nauseous over the petty troubles in the world of everyone else around me (i.e. if your son's teacher gave him a B minus when he deserved a B).
I feel guilty when I laugh (because it is disrespectful to Ty) and I feel guilty if I cry (because it is going to ruin Gavin's chance at a normal future). I look in the mirror and think in two years I've aged over a decade. I remember exactly what Ty looked like after he died and replay the moment he died several times a day.
The good news is that despite all of this, I am laughing more often. I am trying to wear makeup almost every day. I am also remembering what Ty looked like during his healthiest days and it makes me happy - for real happy. I find so much joy in remembering his smile, and I love to watch his videos and thumb through his photos at night. Where would I be without him? Like I always say, despite it all, I am blessed and lucky. Ty and me are the best it gets. I miss him, I love him, and I think God for him.
Thank you all for your love and support. I hope to feel better tomorrow. In closing, here are two delicious, never before seen photos of my boys. Ty, no hair, chemo, still loving the carousel yet again (how does a kid with a brain tumor like this - it makes me want to throw up every time), And Gavin giving a big ole' smooch into the camera.