For twenty six weeks and three days, Robert was my future; for two wonderful, stressful, exciting, scary, bittersweet days, he was my world; for more than ten months now, he's been my angel. Somehow, him being gone seems more real to me than him ever being here. Now, to me, he is sunshine, and clouds, and dancing candle flames. But he was, is, my son. He was here. Hard to reconcile the two together. Is this acceptance? That elusive place that takes women about a year, and men about six months to find? I have no idea. I have never had to find acceptance before, so I don't know what it looks like.
Wherever I am, this realisation has rocked me. How can him being gone seem more real than him being here? I'm him mum, always will be......but I don't get to do the mum things. Instad of being proud of his first steps, I credit him with forming weather systems! Because I need to. Despite "accepting" his absence, I need to feel his presence. I need him in my present. That's why I write.
If this is acceptance, I am not sure I like it. Ok, I no longer sit and think over and over, how can this be? How can he not be here? That is good I guess.....but now I have a whole new set of emotions to deal with. How can I have accepted this? How could I? I'm his mum, if I don't cry for him, who will? Oh, but I do cry. "Acceptance" is not where it becomes ok that this happened.....it is where you finally learn to live with the fact that it has. Does this mean my grief is resolved? No. I am still grieving, very hard.......I am still not sure that particular utopia exists.
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