Dorien: Unplugged

Last Friday marked 5 months since Kyle died.

People like to say "passed on" or "moved on", it doesn't sound
as harsh or final as dead, or died----but the fact of the matter
is that he is dead.  He died.  And he is no longer here with us.
So I like to say he died.
Well, because he did.
Die.
Dammit.

And then it was Memorial Day on Monday.

And the entire day I worked in the yard and did homework and worked in the yard
some more.

My mind conveniently ignored the fact that this was the day I should go by
and visit Kyle's grave site.  It was a conscious choice on my part.

I was practicing avoidance.

Ironically it was ME who insisted on having a site, somewhere to go
and visit for me and the kids, when HE would've preferred
the whole ashes to ashes and wolves in the mountains thing.

And yet, I cannot bring myself to go there.
To where he was laid to rest.

Not yet.

The wound is so raw still.
And this place, the hole in the ground, makes it so real.

My sweet sister in law posted the above picture on her Instagram and Facebook
page late in the day.

It was innocuous enough.

Just a picture of some grass, a rock cairn and some flowers.

Yet it wasn't quite so innocent to me.

And the visceral reaction that tore through my heart and soul
reminded me I have a long way to go on my journey to healing.

It ripped through me and shocked me at how deeply and
profoundly it grabbed me and would not let me go.

Just the sight of that, the rock cairn, the flowers and the grass,
marking where he had been laid to rest, ripped open my scab again
and my heart and soul poured out of body in the form of tears.

Heart rending, soul wrenching, body shaking sobs.

Hard as I might try---there was no escaping the moment.

The "moment" lasted two hours and I lay in bed and wept and wept
for Kyle and his absence from our lives and all that he was missing
and all that he was yet to miss.

Grace, she graduates from High School next Friday
and Josh, he graduates from the University of Utah in 8 more weeks.

Their daddy would be so proud, as am I.

But his absence is looming, this huge shadow of what should have
been witnessed by him and it aches to the depths of my soul in these moments.

So many hours and days and weeks that he won't be here.

Months upon months that add up to years and years of living without him.

So many ups and downs that we must do on our own.

Without Him.

And so many days I wonder if I can....go forward, move ahead, keep going.

There are years and years of space and time to fill and they seem daunting to me.

I gather my children and am reminded of Kyle in the things they do and say.

It's not quite enough to fill what he left behind, but they help remind me of
all that was good in the world, in him.  And I chuckle to see "him" in so
many of the things they do and I sigh and think to myself, "there you are Kyle,
there you are."

And that's what I've got for today.