It has almost been 3 months since my son’s passing. Still processing. I find myself analyzing myself a lot. Wondering if I am doing it correctly. As in, am I sad enough? I should be more sad, I should be curled up on the couch or in my bed. Not eating. Not wanting to participate in the world, or with those that I love. Am I broken? Is this normal? I am sure these days, people who meet me, wouldn’t even know that I have lost a son. I smile. Converse. Laugh. I do have two more children, and they need me. And Caleb, I know he is watching, and he would want me to carry on. To keep moving. Mourne, sure. But keep moving. And so I do.

This is what I tell myself. Keep moving. Keep busy. There is no rule book to follow. Sure, there are stages. But, no rule book. We all grieve differently. So, why put so much stress on how I am dealing with my Son’s passing? I have my moments of quiet thinking. I still cry. I miss him so much. His face. And I think about how his story has ended, so suddenly. I think about this ALL the time. He never leaves my mind, or heart.

So, in a way. He is not gone, not really. Just travelling through a world I have yet to travel through. And when I do, he will be there to greet me. I love that thought. And so, I keep moving. I think there will always be this lingering sadness, so I guess, we better get used to each other. Take up this strange dance, and respect each others space.

It’s like, dancing with the stars. And not in that superficial way, like that tv show. But, in a real and honest way. Spiritual. No judges. Just me in the space he has left in my life. I am going to be just fine. I have to be.