It has been three and a half years since I lost my Sy guy. I wrote this blog right before the second anniversary of his death and wanted to share it with friends here. Maybe the words of my friend will ring true for some of you as well.
Today I am sad. It's been a long week of sad, and maybe if I'm really truthful, I will tell you that sad is in my life everyday. That sucks. I almost stayed in bed today. I had emailed a friend, who knows me well. I told her that the grief of losing Silas is something I live with, yet with the second anniversary of his death coming up tomorrow, I have felt knocked down and it is hard to get back up. She emailed back, and her words were something to the effect of "maybe this won't make any sense at all, but I believe that the day you gave birth to Silas you began to have an anniversary every day ~ an anniversary in which the two of you loved one another very much, and I believe that continues today." Okay, that got me thinking, and even got me out of bed. Nothing can take that away, the anniversaries we share on a daily basis with the ones we love ~ even as we don't acknowlege them in a way we do a birthday, or marriage, or other celebrations, those anniversaries of love are renewed every day. The love Silas and I shared came about before cancer, and continued during, and yes, I believe, even after Silas left this life behind. It doesn't make the missing Silas go away. It doesn't make the mad I feel that he is gone disappear. Or my heart feel like it is in one piece. Those feelings are part of my life now; just as I know that Silas confronted fear, and anger, and loss during his cancer. I know also that his heart was strong with love and with what was important. I love to think about how Sy stayed as funny and determined as ever. I know that the love, determination, protection, and humor helped us all through the hell of cancer. I am grateful to my son for not forgetting who he was/is. Who it seems he was from a very early age. Along with a bit of a stubborn streak (funny how it became known as determination during cancer), Silas was a child who found humor in just about anything. I recently found a photo of him, sitting in an empty cupboard with his sister Phoebe. He wasn't quite two yet, and Phoebe was not quite four. Yet the look on his face is complete delight, to know that the two of them fit into that cupboard. Why, it could be their new house, says the look on his face. The possibilities were endless. As Silas grew into a man, he kept the delight & endless possibilities as part of how he lived life. He lived it fast, and he lived it fun. He lived it with compassion, and conviction, and with an amazingly electric mind that didn't miss much. Silas lived his life on his terms, and for that I am thankful.
Silas & Phoebe in the cupboard :-)
