Thursday will be one year since the day Ty died. I have been a fraction of myself for weeks. I don't respond to so many kind and thoughtful messages because I am so just numb I have nothing to say. I feel like a walking void.
The biggest problem I have with accepting this one year mark is the sheer impossibility of it all. Despite the fact that I miss him profoundly with every second of every day - I am ever aware of his absence - at the same time I still don't fully believe he is gone. As it approaches, this one year anniversary is shoving the painful reality down my throat. It's real. It really did happen. He is never coming back. I just lived an entire year without him here with me. How can that be?
This blog saves me sometimes because I internalize all of my emotions behind a public veil. Writing like this at the end of the day gives me an opportunity to open the floodgates in my head; get all those jumbled thoughts out. It also saves me because it allows me to look back on the last three years and remember everything. It is such a treasure. I wish I had kept some kind of journal my whole life! I want to go back and read about what we were doing on October 15, 2009 - before cancer - but it was only when stupid cancer came around that I started doing this.
Last year, on October 15, I put on a pair of Hulk gloves and started wrestling with Gavin. It was just before bedtime and Ty laughed out loud despite how sick he was. He was happy! Reading about that moment helped my pounding, grieving heart to settle back into my chest a bit. Tomorrow morning, one year ago, Ty woke up whining very, very early. I barely slept a wink so Lou got up with Ty and brought him downstairs so I could rest more. When I came down Ty was already sleeping again and he never woke up again. I always held such regret for missing out on Ty's last conscious moments. I missed his last conversation. I wasn't the one lying next to him on the couch when he fell asleep to an episode of Max and Ruby for the last time. But looking back and knowing I made him laugh his last genuine laugh has given me such comfort today. It's the little things that help me cope sometimes.
Lou and I will take off of work on Thursday, but we refuse to sit around in our sad, sad house. We are planning on going into the city so we can each get a tattoo for Ty. I never had a tattoo, it's not something I ever wanted until now. Now I can't wait. I hope it really hurts, too. A forever tribute, visible to everyone, so people continue to ask me about him until my own last days. We are also going to visit his statue in Long Beach, I can't wait to see "him" again.
I love you my handsome boy. Big Much. My broken heart will forever bleed for you until I see you again. xoxo.