Friday, February 09, 2007


February is flying by way too fast. Soon it'll be March and I dread the 3rd. Some of you know my precious Michael was killed last year on March 3. He was only 17 and was just driving to school in the morning.

I'll never forget that day. My cousin called and said I needed to get down there right away, but wouldn't say why. Our sewer pipe had exploded and I had the plumber on the way, but he said I had to come now, so I called a friend, picked my mom up from work and we drove the 20 miles.

I can still hear the words, "Michael was killed this morning," and feel myself falling. Then had to give the news as each family member arrived. The funeral was awful. Hundreds of kids were there to say good bye. Michael's three younger sisters and his mother were so lost. I couldn't do anything to help them. All I had were some gemstones I picked up, just some magick stones to try and give them something to hold on to.

It's been almost a year now and I still have trouble believing it's real. I go to the cemetery as often as possible, see the tombstone, the flowers, all the things kids have left for him and know the deep empty spot in my life is real. At the same time, I'll look at his photos and can't imagine how someone so young and full of life and promise was ripped from our lives.

I feel myself drawing in and want to just avoid people all together for the next five weeks. I don't know that I can deal with the garbage and meaningless chatter. In the long run, does it really matter how much stuff you accumulate? Or what clothes or jewelry you're wearing?

Family is all that matters. Losing someone you love as much as I loved Michael showed me that the rest is all worthless. Yeah, we have nice stuff - the big screen TV, all the games, cameras and computers, but I'd trade every single thing I own for just one more minute with him. Just to be able to give him one more kiss, hear his laugh or just his voice, push the hair out of his eyes or give him a hard time because of the Misfits shirt he liked to wear.

All the regrets. I saw him at the store just a couple days before he died and I didn't kiss or hug him in the parking lot because he was "too cool" for that stuff. I'll regret that for the rest of my life.

Until we meet again, Michael, I'll love you forever and a day.


Blogger Amy said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I too lost a son - but he was only 9 mos old. We just had the 4th anniversary of his loss last week. Time does help - but the pain is still there.
I found you via the Family Camper list - we have 3 other sons and a new-to-us pop-up trailer. We hope to make some new GOOD memories in it!

5:21 PM  

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