Moms memorial

Of course, I love each of my 5 sons equally.
Zach made himself close to me because he needed me until his last day.
He called me, asked for help, support, rides (he didn’t drive).
He also called just because. If he was happy, he called. If he was sad, he called.
We shared jokes, photos, memes, movies, meal prep, music, and memories.

My favorite calls were when he had told a friend a story from the past. He would call me to have me validate and even tell his friend the same story from my recollection.

Then he would laugh a belly laugh and say I told you my mom is the coolest, most rad Mom.

I know several people who have lost a child. I had always thought that I could not live if this happened.

Here I am.

It is a long process of healing, something you don’t ever see an end to. Only time can take the edge off, until a memory disarms you.
Some days it hits me like a tsunami. For 20-30 minutes it engulfs me, and there is no source of comfort or self-talk that can lessen the pain.

The only way I know to describe it is reverse childbirth.

Visceral. Primal.

And yes, I can take comfort in the footprint he left on so many lives. We will see him again.