Year Two…

A good friend of mine who lost his daughter told me the second year was the worst for him.  I couldn’t even imagine that being possible at the time.  I was still in year one. Everything about losing Ben was bad and wrong, the pain was unbearable, and I was sure I couldn’t feel any worse. 

I remember when it had been one year since Ben died.  I didn’t want July 14, 2020 to come.  I wanted to somehow skip over the day . . . just go to sleep on the 13^th and wake up on the 15^th.  I could not figure out how I had lived without my son for 365 days and I didn’t want to live without him ONE. MORE. DAY.  

I think I came to understand why my friend had struggled with the second year even more than the first.  For me, the shock, numbness, denial, and anger were starting to wear off.  When all of these start to leave, the only thing left is reality . . . And my reality sucked. 

I told my husband it was like we were stuck in the movie “Groundhog Day”, starring Bill Murray.  Every morning the alarm would go off and we would instantly remember what had happened.  We would both go to work and try to pretend for the people around us that we were okay.  (We really weren’t okay).  For me, I would come home after work and just sit.  I was paralyzed.  I knew I had things I could do, needed to do, wanted to do . . . but I just sat.  I thought if I could just sit until about 8:30, then I could go to sleep.  When I slept, I didn’t have to think. So I sat, and then I slept, and then I would wake up and do the same thing over and over again…. for another year. 

On July 14, 2021, Ben will have been gone two years.  That is the same amount of time he and his three brothers spent time away from home while serving church missions.  All my heart keeps telling me is that it is time for him to come home.