Is it weird that I feel guilty about listening to new songs? I do. I feel so guilty. I almost hate flipping through the channels because I’m afraid to hear a new song and like it. It makes my heart pound. It’s not fair. He doesn’t get to enjoy them. He doesn’t get to make fun of the bad ones. We don’t get to talk about them. We don’t get to plan a concert trip.
You’ll notice I use music as many of my references. Music is a large part of my life. It was a large part of Zane’s too. I’ve mentioned that before though. We loved our music talks.
Joe and I visited Zane Monday and placed new Christmas flowers. He has had many visitors. So many beautiful flowers have been put out there. Even Pepsi cans for my baby boy. Every time I go to the cemetery, all I can do is stare. I stare at the ground. I stare knowing my son is buried there. I stare knowing I’ll never see him again. I stare knowing all I’ll ever get to do is place flowers. I stare wondering if I should have put his favorite blanket in the casket with him to keep him warm. Or put his favorite beanie on him instead of his hat. I hope I made the right choice in clothes and shoes. Did he like the music? Oh I’m sure he did but I still wonder. We also put flowers out for Elinda and Petey as well. They all look so pretty. Elinda loved feathers so I incorporated them in the bouquet.
Since I decided to actually decorate for Christmas I have been collecting items for the tree. I’ve had most of what I needed but have not had the desire to get anything done. I kept saying ‘tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow.’. Well, tomorrow kept passing. I would walk by the pool table and see all of the ornaments and decorations and just stare. Completely unable to do what I ‘planned’. Monday night I figured I needed to get it done. I felt a calmness after I visited Zane at the cemetery. And I knew Christmas was coming whether I wanted it to or not. Slapping me in the face. Actually punching. Like black eye kind of punching. Santas everywhere. Snowmen everywhere. Holy cow. My new middle name is Ebenezer Scrooge. I used to think the antlers and red nose on cars were cute…now I think they’re stupid. Sorry, just being honest. I cringe about going into Hobby Lobby, minor panic attack. But all in all, my tree turned out Beautiful. In my 20 years of being married I’ve never had a predominantly white and crystal ornament tree with purple accents. Of course the purple is for Zane. But I might tie Mia’s tail to her hind leg till I take the tree down, I’ve had more ornaments on the floor than on the tree.
The last few days have been exceptionally difficult. On our way home from putting the flowers out at the cemetery, I heard the sound I hate to hear…sirens. Yes, I still get the chills after four months. I even made the comment to Joe about it. The fire truck passed us on hwy 114. Later that evening we found out a co-worker’s son, who happens to be a very good friend of mine, had a horrible car accident and didn’t make it. The sirens we’re for him. All more the reason to absolutely hate the piercing sound of sirens. He was 26. I went to see her Tuesday after work. She asked me what to do. I told her I didn’t have an answer. I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out. There’s no other way to say that it doesn’t get easier except…it doesn’t get easier. I had to tell her my feet are still hot from walking through hell. I keep looking for the gates to get out but I keep taking the wrong turn. Parents are NOT supposed to bury their babies, no matter their age.
I want everyone to know what kind of place I work at. My salon is to say the least, wow. Everyone there was worried about ME. Me. Yes, 125% concerned about Patricia, but also about me. They were worried on how I would take the news. Even Patricia herself was worried about me. This was her text to me Wednesday morning…
It warmed my heart to see you and Joe last night! Thank you!! As much as it hurts to lose My son….. your loss is still so much more losing Your BABY at such a young age and I truly feel for you…..love you Carrie 😘
I love my work family. I received multiple texts from the girls at work and hugs and simple smiles. I could see in their eyes they are worried. I wouldn’t know what to do without them.
My worst nightmare is to know another parent will now know my pain. And again, it’s something I’ll never understand. Now my heart will cry for Patricia and her family on Saturday as they bury her son RJ. Her pain is my pain.
I keep taking that wrong turn.