The truth is, I don't know how to do this. 2 years since he died, 2 years since I heard him say I love you, 2 years since we hugged, 2 years since he hogged the bed, 2 years since he played with his brothers. 2 years and while I'm not screaming out loud, the agony is still here, just as fresh, just as raw. My son was killed because of a driver's negligence, he doesn't need to be dead. And I still see it everywhere, the distracted.
This weekend as I half heartedly prepped for bramiversary I held my boys as they sobbed for their brother. I hear the words no child should say "I wish my brother was never killed." I fought sleep in fear of another prophetic dream. I tried to fill the holes. We hurt, we bickered, we hugged, we struggle. So often it's a struggle.
We've lost 2 years of our lives, and maybe this next year will be better, they there's firsts we will face this year, like him being dead longer than he lived. I'm not ok today. I'm not healed. We're not healed.
My stomach hurts, my heart hurts. I don't know how to carry this. I don't know how to breathe through this. Contrary to Bram's "that's too much" meaning more, this is actually too much. I avoid the grief, I avoid and fill. I have to fill the holes, with food, with obsessions, with sarcasm, with anger and bitterness, with apathy. Plug up those holes, even temporarily and I can numb the hurt. but it doesn't matter how hard I try, the holes, the bleeding oozing Bram shaped crater in my soul stays. I've learned that I have to face this pain. I've realized I need to use love for the holes. Not fillers.
All of us miss Bram, and I don't want to imagine a future without him. I want him there, I want to see him grow up, I want to know who he was meant to be. How do you ever except a future without your child? How do you hold hope for a future without your baby there?