No Band-aid Big Enough
Perhaps without even realizing it, I am looking for a band-aid for the pain I feel when I miss Joey. Part of me wants so much not to hurt any more, but at the same time sometimes that pain is the connection I feel to my son. It's hard to know what to want as we grieve for the loss of my angel boy.
This past week we took our two younger children on vacation. After five months of one crisis after another and deep sorrow, we wanted to take them to a place where we could feel happiness again as a family. We decided to take them to San Diego.
The kids were amazing: patient in the long lines and in the heat. Happy just to spend time with us. And full of fun. That was what I wanted from the trip: to see Brett and the kids enjoying themselves. That makes me more happy than anything. We truly enjoyed just taking our time to enjoy each moment. I didn't rush them out the door each morning. I didn't worry about when the park opened or bedtimes. We didn't worry about too many treats or riding just one more time. We just let things happen and tried to relax. It was good to be together.
What surprised me, however, was how many things triggered tears for Brett and I. Right before Joey passed away I was able to interview him for about 10 minutes. One of the questions I asked was for him to name a place that he has never been to that he would like to visit. He named Legoland. He's been a fan of Legoland since he was old enough to pinch those little blocks together. As we drove to Legoland one morning of our trip, Brett and I were suddenly overcome with feelings of deep grief, devastated that our boy would not be joining us on this vacation.
All during Joey's illness, we talked about taking a vacation as a family when Joey felt better. Even as we saw the cancer take full hold of his little body we held out for any glimpse of hope. It gave him something to look forward to, something to hold on to.
When he could not join us on this trip, it made our hearts ache. We were careful not to dampen the younger kids' fun, as this trip was for them; but we often found ourselves remembering Joey and how he would have liked this ride or how he had loved that ride in the past.
I suppose that's what I mean when I say there isn't a band-aid big enough. No trip, no event, nothing can take away from missing Joe. We just love him too much, and he is so much a part of who we are that it was inevitable that we would feel the loss of him even on a family vacation.
So, Joey, I missed you, baby. I wanted to see you ride the Screamer with your Dad and come off laughing. I wanted you to experience Legoland and buy new Legos that you really didn't need. I wanted you to pick a treat like your brother and sister, and I wanted you with me every moment on our vacation. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you!
Here's to you, baby: