Jameson went to heaven three years ago right about now. He slipped away from us, right out of our arms into Heaven. And we knew when he was gone because the room felt empty. And I felt a little numb. And sick. And scared.
And I remember how much we just wanted to leave, just wanted to go, to just get out of that place where everything crumbled away. But we had lived in that space for 4 months. And it was Christmas. So we had a lot of crap to pack up. I remember numbly taking bag after bag and just shoving things into them. Like the whole Christmas trees ornaments and all. And the nurses helped to take down the pictures and cards that literally wallpapered the room. And we just couldn't do it fast enough. And I was shaking and numb and he was gone and were were still there and everything I knew about the world seemed off. Like I just knew I was gonna miss that bottom step any time now.
And we walked out to our cars and the nurses helped us load them full of crap. We left with so much but not what we wanted most. The only thing worth taking couldn't come with us that cold clear morning. It was clear and I didn't understand how anything could be clear. How anything could make sense. How the sun was still rising in the sky. And people. People were still moving and driving and going to work and how did the world not just see that my son had just died?
But the world kept spinning and my mind kept spinning and I was so afraid. Afraid of crashing the car. Afraid of looking anyone in the eye. Afraid to tell my son that his brother was gone.
And three years later, I'm still spinning around, shaking and a little numb. And the world still feels a little empty. And I miss him so naturally, it has become a part of who I am. He is still gone. And the world is still spinning. And I can't stop anything.