I’ve been working on Jake’s album. Tried my hardest to sit down and not get up, tried my hardest to sit here and do as much as I could. My hardest was not good enough.
I had to get up several times and go try to distract myself. Going through all the pictures, all the things we did, all the things we’ll never do again with Aires. It’s torture, it’s excruciating. To see him there with us, over and over again, to see all the happy smiles, to know that all my smiles from now on will be a little fake. I’ll be happy to be doing whatever I’m doing with the boys, but I will forever miss his presence with us while we’re doing it.
Nothing can fill the void left in our lives and in our hearts. I’ve been looking at myself all afternoon in the mirror, every time I go to the restroom, and the sadness is visible. I lightened up when we were having dinner, but when the boys are in the basement or otherwise busy, and I’m alone, the sadness is very apparent.
I try hard to not be sad all the time, especially when I’m with the boys, or with people. I want to maintain my own normalcy, to not get dragged into depression. For me, to keep myself busy, socializing with friends, going places with the boys, to keep doing what I used to do before the accident, that’s what keeps me, me. It keeps me from rolling down the sadness only hill, it allows me to breathe, to smile, to laugh, to talk about something that has nothing to do with me or what I’m living through.
But the sadness is there, it’s evident, I see it in my eyes, even when I’m smiling. In the back of my head, all the time, it’s there. Not that I want to forget about it, not in the least, this is my reality, I love the life I had, I love the short 24 years I had, I will never forget. And the pain is now part of that wonderful past, it’s the present and future. It’s okay with me, to never be fully happy again, it’s okay to always miss what I had. As long as I don’t lose myself in grief and pain, I’m okay.