I often wonder as I go about my busy day, how often do others think of you?
I think of you countless times during each and every day. A scent, a voice, a breeze, reminds me of you. The sweatshirt I wore today was given to me on my first ‘girls’ trip’ after the run we raced in your honor, the year we lost you.
Everything has a memory of you. Before you were here. While we had you. And now that you’re gone. So many memories are all tied back to you.
When I talk on the phone to those who knew you, or knew about you, or knew of your loss, do they think about you when we speak? Do they think about how often I must think of you? Do they pity me? That poor mother who lost her sweet, young, precious son? I think about if they think of you. I think about what they think of me, as I think of you.
I walked in the house last night, after my drive home from work, and Daddy noticed I had been crying. He asked what was wrong and if I was ok. I was fine, I had just been thinking of you. I had been thinking of you, and missing you. And often, still, while I am alone, especially in the car, I cry over you.
I cried at work yesterday thinking about you. No one noticed, and I didn’t have to be embarrassed. I still never feel I have to make an excuse when I cry over you. Even though those around me now never got to meet you, and met me after you were gone, I never shy away from mentioning your name and telling stories of the wonderful little man you were and the angel that you are.
So when I cry, when I have those moments where your absence hurts my heart, and your presence in Heaven doesn’t offer comfort, and the tears have to fall, I accept it and I admit why. Because I think about you. All the time. And it’s ok for me to let others know how often I do.
And when others see me cry, I wonder what they think. I wonder if they think about how lucky I am. I only get to think about you, because you are no longer here. But I got to have you. And I can’t think of anything better.