For the most part the guilt over Connor’s death has dissipated. I say for the most part, because there are still those days where nothing helps. Where all I want to do is cry, find blame in the situation and stay in bed. I know that isn’t rational, nor does it make any sense. All I do know is how I feel, one moment I feel like everything is ok, and the next moment I am back in November 2017 and my world has imploded in the worst way possible.
The more time that has elapsed, the more I realize that I’m not alone. I don’t mean my cherished friends. They are always there at a moments notice if I need them via phone, text or FB messenger. I mean the ever growing group of women that have lost children. There are nothing easy about these emotions, they are raw, messy, ugly and full of pitfalls at every corner.
Someday I hope my life won’t be full of all these emotional pitfalls, that I will be able to see a Black Mazda 3i without the big crocodile tears running down my cheeks and making a huge mess of my makeup. That the sound of untied workbooks clunking across the floor won’t cause a lump in my chest that no amount of swallowing will clear.
I have always lived by and taught my children that you reap what you sow. That hard work pays off, education is the brass ring and with a good education and a trade you can go far. That if you are careful and pay attention to your surroundings, then things like this don’t happen. I was dreadfully and woefully wrong, on so many levels. Accidents do happen, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to figure out why me, why us??