2nd Year Grief

I am now 4 months into the 2nd year without my son.
Am I feeling any better? No, I just wear a better mask.
Am I thankful for his journey? No, I am still replaying everything that happened to him.  To us.
Has my social life returned back to how it was before? No.  I am still without those friends who were absent at the beginning of our life without Haydon, that hasn't changed.
Are we still surrounded by a network of people offering support? No.  Time has passed, so in most people's eyes we should have moved on too.  We should be 'over it' now, we should 'have a grip' by now.  They are tired of hearing about our loss.
They are bored reading the same old posts.  Most are learning to overlook sad comments and status updates, and are now avoiding the mention of his name.
I am not just talking about 'friends' here, I also mean some family members too.  When Haydon first left he had a stream of regular visitors, people who would pop up to see his forever space, he had people leaving beautiful comments on his photographs.  Now.......people hardly even read my blog.....

Now? now he barely gets a reaction.
Is this just to make others feel more comfortable? Oh my, she is still going on about him?.
If the posts and comments are ignored then maybe she will stop, maybe she will stop going on, it's dragging us down.

Well, I won't apologise because I have nothing to apologise for.  Really, I don't.
If you are one of those people who wants me to just stop going on, then please bear all of this in mind...and then tell me if you would be different.

I held my dead son, yes I will say that word because that is what happened.  I held him in my arms and I cried and screamed with desperation over his broken little body and his wounds that couldn't and wouldn't ever heal.  I placed him in a moses basket for his family to see and say goodbye to, and for many of them it was their first time of meeting him.  I left him cold and alone and waiting for a day where I knew I wouldn't be able to hold him again, anymore.  I had to choose a place for him to lie forever without me, I had to choose a piece of stone that would be a fitting tribute to the personality that he was/is.
I had to wake and still do, that hasn't changed, to a house filled with reminders of my son and the life we had with him.  I stumble over letters, and clothing, and dummy tits and bottles and bibs when I walk into his room - because it still is his room, even if he isn't in it now.  We still walk down the street everyday or go on the bus, or on the bike, or to tesco, or the doctors or even to visit people, anywhere!!! and there is always reminders of our son being missing.  That hasn't changed.

What has changed though is my ability to say I am not going to apologise.  What has changed is that I am sweeping away all of those people who put their cat before my son in his dying days, washing out those people who told me that he wasn't that ill.............really?...well he isn't here now is he?........
I am clearing out and I am being ruthless, because I need to.  I am replying to messages that are apologising for not including us in events with honesty, I am saying that being excluded hurts.

I am saying that losing my son changed everything....including friendships.
I am being honest when I say I do fill my days talking to a lot of people who have lost children, because hardly anyone else wants to talk to us now anyway compared to before.
We are no longer the life and soul of every party, so we no longer get invited to them.

The first year of grief I lost my son and I couldn't bear the thought of living without him.  The first year I was drowning in my grief so much that I couldn't even hold conversations with close family members without breaking down and wanting to die too.  The first year I had to think about what I could do now, what I could cope with in a day, what might help me to pick myself up and create some form of life.
I have moved forward so much with that I actually am amazed at myself....but am I 'me' again - No.

The second year is bringing a crippling silence.

The second year is bringing an expectation that I will be strong now, that Jim will be more able now, we have had more time heal.

The sad reality is that we haven't, we aren't.  A sadder reality is that we know we won't, ever.

We held our dead son in our arms, and we had to let him go, forever.

Do not judge what you do not know, and hopefully will never understand.  ......I am not saying for one minute though that you need to have buried your child for people to try and put themselves in these shoes....because any parent can imagine....but, this IS our reality.

I can tell you one thing though, silence is creating an anger.....and I refuse to stop posting, talking or showing stories about my son, just to make you feel better.  Because that would only make us feel worse.

Food for thought eh.  Of course in typical fashion...those that need to read this will have probably just overlooked the post anyway........ ;-)