Another corner in the road to healing

Today is 11 days shy of being three months since my son passed. I moved seamlessly through my day on autopilot, going to lunch with my husband, coming home, walking the dogs, sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, waxing and sweeping again (this time outside). I am just a bit exhausted.

Today for the first time, I could not cry really when going through the cards people sent to us when Penn died. I was going through the cards to complete my Christmas card mailing list, and just teared up, but something came over me that prevented me from crying.

It's as though I am beginning to go through the first part of this journey all over again. The first couple of weeks were surprisingly easier than month one to month two. It was fresh in my mind, but adrenaline I guess kept me sane, and then reality kicked in, and the pain of not having Penn came full force. Just about that time is when people started not being as available to talk, and I guess moved on with their lives. It was time for me to move on with mine to, I guess. But, how do you move on, when you want to hang on to every single memory, every single thought, hair, smell, touch of your child that is no longer with you? It's like being stuck in quick sand. The harder you try to get out of it, the deeper you go, until finally the top of your head is the only thing remaining above the line of sand the encompasses you.

Today, I feel as though a force, perhaps God, pulled me out from the sand which quickly was sucking me under. I feel still in shock but alive. I am still covered with the icky mess, and some is still in my lungs, but I am not in that pool of sand, sinking to my grave anymore.