There are days when the only way I know how to make it through is to pretend that Jordan is away at school. I get through the day by telling myself that he would be away at school not at home now anyway. This tactic helps me not to miss him so much. There are days when this strategy isn’t enough. I sometimes make it through with him living his dream of spending a semester in London. I imagine the conversations we would have and how I would vicariously enjoy his time there through him regaling his exploits and adventures.
There are other days when no matter how hard I try I can’t summon the energy to pretend. Grief lies right under the surface of my skin, undulating with sparks that threaten to make me cry out. I wonder as I make it through the day if I’m finally reaching the point where breakdown with all its screaming, pounding force will take over. I don’t trust myself to breathe in too deeply for fear that I won’t release the breath or worse the release will be a scream. How did I get to such a place? I wonder most days how life took such an unimaginable turn. My son is gone and it takes all of my strength to remember that I’m still here to do more than grieve. Pain comes in many forms. Grief hurts.