June…my last weeks with Nash. You know how when there is a tsunami or hurricane warning, they advise you to seek higher ground, evacuate, or stock up on non-perishables and find the nearest shelter? That’s what June feels like to me. Only this time I have the warning; I know the storm is coming but have absolutely no idea how to prepare for it or how much damage it will bring. I feel crippled by the amount of depression this month has brought. I feel like I’m reliving his death and the days leading up to it…like if I try hard enough, I can rewind time and change the events of that day…only I don’t know how. Everything like the summer air, green grass, blue skies, things I have always loved about June take me back to this time last year and I want to find the old me and warn me…DON’T TAKE HIM TO THE SITTER!!! CALL IN SICK TO WORK!!! CALL BECCA TO GO PICK HIM UP EARLY!!!
I know I can’t go back though, and the frustration and stress it is causing me is beyond anything I have ever endured. It feels like it’s getting worse. It’s been almost a year, shouldn’t I feel better? Shouldn’t this get easier? I find myself reminiscing about this time last year. How excited I was, like in all the previous months, to put Nash’s monthly sticker on and snap a picture of him to post online…five months old. My poor January baby, he had been cooped up his whole life and it was finally nice enough to take him outside. We found that he enjoyed this more then anything. His first boat ride. His many walks down the country roads near our home with Todd proudly wearing him in a carrier. The soccer games he was toted around to so his aunt Becca could show him off. His many naps in the grass with his daddy…his surprise visits to his aunt Caroline’s house, where Todd would put his car seat on her front porch facing the door, ring the door bell and run, only to watch from feet away as Caroline would open the door to see him and scream and smile. Oh, how I loved this time of year last June…oh, how I HATE it now. It reminds me of how happy we all were. How fun Nash was becoming and how much more we could do with him now that it was finally warm. We had no idea that ten short days after we placed that five month sticker on…he would be tragically taken from us. Every second of June I spent with an aching pit in my stomach. If you could run out of tears…I would have on June 1st.
I found myself hating everyone and everything. People were talking about how nice it was, how it was finally summer. As a hygienist, I do a lot of small talk. The same usual questions. How are you? It sure is nice outside, isn’t it? Planning any vacations this summer? I still asked these questions, only this time I prayed they didn’t answer, and when they did, I wanted to scream. God forbid someone tell me about taking their kids camping or to the water park. I found myself glaring at them and feeling this need to bluntly reply when they asked me if I was enjoying my summer, “As a matter a fact, I am. My child died this time last year and I’m finding it hard to breathe. Hard to get out of bed each day. Hard to pretend I’m not jealous of your life and the time you get to spend with your children. How much I absolutely love hearing about how great your doing. I managed to smile and say the right things though.
Every day felt like a marathon. I would drive down the road and see people grilling, taking their boats on the water, pushing their kids in strollers through town…and to me it might as well have been snowing. I HATED EVERYONE!! I could no longer handle taking the high road or being the person people felt was handling grief so gracefully. I told God every other day how much I hated him. If this is a lesson that I am supposed to learn, screw him for thinking I needed it. If Todd tried to talk to me, I either bit his head off or cried. I found myself driving past the sitter’s road, a road I have not been down since the day I dropped Nash off. I wanted to run through her door, grab hold of her and shake her as hard as I could. I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs how much I hated her. How much my life is ruined because of her ignorance. How I am forever a different person because of her lack of common sense. But mostly I wanted to scream at her that my Nash suffered and lost his life…HIS LIFE!!!!!!!! I wanted to run upstairs to the room he died in and study every corner of it. Lay where he laid when he died so I could see what he saw as he breathed his last breaths. How crazy is it that my son died in a room I have never been in, never even seen?
I wanted to yell at all my family and friends to quit calling me, texting me, coming over. I didn’t want to see or talk to any of them. The effort it required to even pretend I could be a good friend, sister, daughter at this time was beyond me and I found myself hating all of them for any happy post they posted on Facebook, any smile they would crack. Any laugh i heard. I wanted everyone to feel as badly as I did. I wanted to run away from life and all it’s obligations. Why do I have to go to a family party? Why do I have to make an excuse to ignore everyone I know? Why do I have to take a shower, brush my teeth, comb my hair? Screw everyone and everything for moving on, for smiling, for even being a little happy. My life is forever altered and I hated that I felt alone in that. I was cynical and angry…and then finally…numb. June, oh how I will forever hate you.