Trying

I’ve been trying to write a new blog post for weeks now. January was, for the most part, brutal. Mitchell’s birthday came and went, and was perhaps the coldest day of the month, which seems somewhat appropriate. We took balloons, others took flowers and other tokens of remembrance, which made me cry all over again. Carson shouldn’t have to take his brother’s birthday balloons to the cemetery. Teenagers shouldn’t have to spend a school holiday at the cemetery visiting their friend. It just shouldn’t be that way.

Last weekend and this weekend also had some awesome experiences, especially for Carson. The Nashville Predators invited him to be part of the NHL All-Star experience, and he got to be in the group of kids who were on the ice during the introductions and national anthems at the NHL All Star game. He got to line up next to legends like Jaromir Jagr and Roberto Luongo. I think that experience is still sinking him for him.

Also, the Nashville Predators had donated a "skate with the Predators" experience for the auction at the Play for Mitch event, and our friends who won that invited Carson to skate with them, too. So we joined a dozen kids and teens (some of Mitchell's best friends), and four Nashville Predators for an hour on the ice at Bridgestone Arena.

Both of those events were so much fun, and such great experiences and opportunities. But at the same time, in the back of my head, all I can hear is "only because Mitchell died." I will never be able to say again, "This is the best day of my life," because it never will be again. Our joy will continually be tainted.

I am trying. I am trying to get back to cooking and cleaning – at least as much as I was before, which isn’t really saying much. I am trying to get back to being somewhat productive at work, but I have a hard time focusing. I am trying to get back into church – we made it through Sunday’s service without having to leave. I am trying to be a good mom for Carson – trying to keep his life as normal as I can; trying to remember he is not Mitchell; trying to remember that he misses Mitchell, too. I am trying to honor Mitchell by living my life. That may be the hardest one of all. But I am trying.

But I am sad. And I am angry. I am sad for all we are missing. I am angry for all he is missing. Every hockey game, every tweet from high school, every college mailing reminds me of that. And I don’t see that getting “better.” Someone else recently said the first year felt like a terrible test, but that you feel like if you get through the first year, you get to win, and they get to come back. And then the second year starts, and you realize that isn’t going to happen. I feel like that. This first year is bad. And next year I get to hear about Homecoming, and Prom, and Graduation, and College. And the next… and the next…