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Pushing through

I'm pushing through, I'm pushing through, I'm pushing through.

Before I get up out of bed, I tell myself this. This accompanied by anger and frustration that I had another stupid fucking dream about work and never about my Moe Moe. How does someone leave your life and leave your dreams too? I feel I'm battling everyday to remember each memory about him. If you think about it, many of your memories come not only from photos but those around you rememberIng. If I don't have that person in my life, how in the hell do I tap into all of our memories?

I'm so afraid I'm going to lose knowing how beautiful my son was. I'm going to lose what it felt like for me to hug him and run my fingers through his thick uncombed hair. I remember now, but will I in 10 years? 20 years? 30 or 40 years? That's how long I have to go without my son. A miserable life sentence.

I thought I could rely on my dreams but apparently, they are fucking worthless.

Aubree reminded me of a time when Alex broke his brother's Tommy's hand.  We were in Idaho on our way back from a Yellowstone road trip and the boys were wrestling immediately when I heard the bone in Tommy's hand snap. While scary at the time, looking back it's a perfect representation of the boy's childhood, always wrestling.

And not super surprised as Alex broke his arm when he was 8 in a jump house. I remember bringing him home from the hospital that night, he was drugged from the doctors resetting his arm after it had been dislocated. I was so afraid of him sleeping by himself after all those meds that I had him sleep with me. I remember looking at him feeling that deep motherhood feeling, a feeling mixed with strong love and fear.

But more memories will pile up. And potentially replace these memories. Just like Alex's smell on his clothes after I've slept with them for a few days.  His smell dissipates and is replaced by my own smell. He will soon be completely gone and as I think of that, my heart races, chest aches, and breath is quick.

So, I suppose I'm pushing through to a life that doesn't include my son. A life that not only takes him away but every last piece of evidence he was even here. Not even when I pray and beg God to let me dream of him does that work.

So fucking wonderful. I'm pushing through.

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