It is a day just like all the rest, no different than any other. I keep telling myself that, and mostly I believe it. It seems to last longer than most, but not so much anymore, not like in the beginning when it was new. Then it could last for weeks, the day that never ended, but now it is just longer. But somehow I know that it will eventually hit me, the tears.
Tonight I went to dinner with co-workers, people who don’t know my back story, just work aquaintances, it is nice to not have to explain or to see that look in their faces as they think about it. I hate that part. But at the same time I feel alone, wanting to have someone know why I’m a little subdued, not joining in on the conversation, looking at my watch to see what time it is.
I got a text at the table from a friend, “Sending you ++++ energy. Xoxo” that was nice. Later another friend texted “stopped by and had a drink with your son, and the family”. I know she is within driving distance of the cemetery. Looking up I hope no one notices that my eyes are watering. Getting too painful, I get up and excuse myself to go to the restroom where I look at myself in the mirror and see an old sad guy. When I get back to the table I made and excuse and headed back to the Hotel.
Oh, did I mention that I’m at the beach? I have not seen the beach, not in person at least, but I’m here. That is another tactic that I use, schedule a meeting so that I’m not at home alone on this day. There is only three days a year that I dwell on this topic, Birthday, death day and Christmas. I don’t know why Christmas gets special treatment, but it does. Today is death day. And I know that it will hit me when I’m alone.
finally, back in my room, and the phone rings, it is my middle Son, he is checking up on me. I know he doesn’t have to say anything, but we chat, delaying the moment. After he gets off, I have a drink, just a small one, think about taking a shower, then hear the rain outside.
Rain, like tears brings back the memory of that day, 12 years ago, when my world ended as I knew it. The day I lost one of my sons. And finally, the tears come… pouring down my face as I sob at the loss, until my ribs ache. Then as if by magic it is done. I can go to sleep and tomorrow will be another day, only 118 days until Christmas… Until then, it is just like any other day.
© The autobiography of Mr. perfect, 2017