When Children Die - Mirror Image Memories
I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I thought I was OK; now nearly 10 years from my son's death, I have occasion to know differently.
I really thought I was managing well and behaving in a reasonably stable manner--I guess for the most part, I am.
But last night was different.
While driving to visit some friends, I was stopped by one of our many traffic lights heading southbound toward Tampa.
While traffic pulled up, around, and behind me, I happened to glance in my rear view mirror--and there he was.
"It's been 10 years since I've seen you," I thought.
"And how in heaven's name did you get a tattoo on your hand?" He hadn't had that when he left.
Of course, it wasn't him, but for the dark sunglasses he wore, he was a ringer.
I wished I could see his entire face, but I knew it was probably better that I didn't.
It would either spoil the fantasy, or be a bit too real.
Either way--not good for me.
Selfish or not--life is now all about what is "good" for me.
I defend this new found, self protective instinct to all nay-sayer's who would still go the way of drama, and flawed associations.
I now honor the value of looking out for my best interest in terms of what I allow to affect my daily operations.
Having for the most part mastered feeling good, my new motto is, "If it doesn't feel good, it doesn't stay in my conscious life, and if it hurts me--it doesn't stay in my life long.
Despite all this, I was unable to tear my eyes from this young man while stopped, but in the name of safe driving, was forced to do so as the light turned green.
Thankfully, he passed me quickly after traffic began to resume its southern trek.
About then, I began to come out of the trance I'd fallen under.
Good thing too--I might have followed that poor young man to the point of my embarrassment or arrest--which ever came first.
It only took seconds after he was once again a memory, for me to start tearing up.
It wasn't a cascading event at least, just a bit of puddling up, but it still took something from me to have experienced it.
And it is during moments like this that I realize not only how close is the loss in emotion, but also how very far I've come in making peace with it.
It's still getting better.
I insist on it and I make it better.
I really thought I was managing well and behaving in a reasonably stable manner--I guess for the most part, I am.
But last night was different.
While driving to visit some friends, I was stopped by one of our many traffic lights heading southbound toward Tampa.
While traffic pulled up, around, and behind me, I happened to glance in my rear view mirror--and there he was.
"It's been 10 years since I've seen you," I thought.
"And how in heaven's name did you get a tattoo on your hand?" He hadn't had that when he left.
Of course, it wasn't him, but for the dark sunglasses he wore, he was a ringer.
I wished I could see his entire face, but I knew it was probably better that I didn't.
It would either spoil the fantasy, or be a bit too real.
Either way--not good for me.
Selfish or not--life is now all about what is "good" for me.
I defend this new found, self protective instinct to all nay-sayer's who would still go the way of drama, and flawed associations.
I now honor the value of looking out for my best interest in terms of what I allow to affect my daily operations.
Having for the most part mastered feeling good, my new motto is, "If it doesn't feel good, it doesn't stay in my conscious life, and if it hurts me--it doesn't stay in my life long.
Despite all this, I was unable to tear my eyes from this young man while stopped, but in the name of safe driving, was forced to do so as the light turned green.
Thankfully, he passed me quickly after traffic began to resume its southern trek.
About then, I began to come out of the trance I'd fallen under.
Good thing too--I might have followed that poor young man to the point of my embarrassment or arrest--which ever came first.
It only took seconds after he was once again a memory, for me to start tearing up.
It wasn't a cascading event at least, just a bit of puddling up, but it still took something from me to have experienced it.
And it is during moments like this that I realize not only how close is the loss in emotion, but also how very far I've come in making peace with it.
It's still getting better.
I insist on it and I make it better.
Source...