As I’m laying here on the couch being very thankful that this week is over, I’m coming to the realization that it has nothing to do with how hard I worked. Because in all reality I didn’t work that hard at all. I was off Monday, worked Tuesday, was off Wednesday because I had a specialized cortisone shot in my shoulder and then worked Thursday and today.
What made this week so hard, and so long was the emotional turmoil that it consisted of. I realized that my birthday is fast approaching, and it is just another year older. I could care less about that, what is rocking my world is that another year has come and gone and Connor isn’t here. I know deep down that he isn’t coming back, to think anything else would be delusional. I am not ready to be carted off by the guys in the white coats just yet. There are not little green men living under my bed, that I know of anyway.
As Connor’s friend Krystal said the days that were the hardest for her are the holidays they should be there, the birthdays and the big ones like Christmas, Thanksgiving and maybe even Easter. She is right, they are the hardest ones, every day is hard, a cruel reminder that I am going to have to slog through the rest of my days on this earth without him. But these special days are the worst, turning 51 without my 18 year old smiling, silly, sarcastic, blue eyed romantic young man with me. Yup that is a personal version of hell that no mom should ever endure.