Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Going Foward

Writing here is really hard for me. Admission of feelings is a foreign thing to most guys. We're strong, we're stoic. We beat our chests and pretend to be invincible. We stand tall in the face of adversity, and face danger head on. We try to convince ourselves that we're modern day superheroes, and, to their credit, our female counterparts let us believe it.

But when it comes to admitting to a weakness, no matter how well deserved, guys will tend to balk.

This isn't a blanket statement, of course. I know there are plenty of men out there in touch with their feelings and completely comfortable sharing them. Neither is the above meant to alienate or effeminize those particular guys in any way (and yes, I just made up a word there). I just mean to point this out to try to help define why it is that, for me, coming here isn't the easiest or most desirable thing to do.

I do it anyway because I'm a man, and, damn it, if a thing's difficult then it's a challenge to best... But really I do it because it helps ease my burden, and at this point I've neglected my burden so long it's begun to weigh heavily on my heart.

We're at almost one year since losing my son with his fiery hair, and each passing second brings me closer to reliving the very worst days my life has seen. My anger, which I had assumed gone, has flared again. I know the futility of it and that just serves to stoke the flame. I cry out in silence with hysterical rantings to God, and I arrogantly question his plan. Why!? is the most common thought in my head. No other question seems to matter. That one word has the power to sum up every feeling of regret and loss, encompass every thought.

Why? Why...

I've tried to convince myself He's answered me in some form or another, and maybe He really has. Maybe I'm not open to hear Him. I tend to only really understand plainly spoken words, and simple metaphor. If anything more complex than that isn't spelled out and explained part by part, then it's lost on me.

So, lacking an answer, I'm left to wonder, and I'm left to my imagination to the purpose of any of this. And the closer we get to August 13th, the worse it all becomes. You'd think at this point in the grieving process most of the tears would be gone. I hadn't cried, really cried, in 6 months. But those tears have been there, just waiting, and now they pour from me like... well I wanted to say a fountain, but that's a bit cliche, so let's try to be literal:

They pour from me like a man with a dead son and a broken heart.

I'll try to face this challenge more often.

4 comments:

Mandy said...

Yes, yes, yes. I am always in awe of the male perspective in this land of babyloss. I think you and my husband would get along great. He's the stoic male you described and I so wish he'd write about his feelings so that he could let them out and not hold them in.

I am also approaching the year mark (August 9) of my daughter's birth/death. And you are so right...the closer it gets, the worse I get. The anger is rearing up again and the tears come at the littlest triggers now. I thought I was past that. I was doing sooo much better. And now, I'm just not.

And the "Why?" question...so spot on. It can sum up all the anger and hurt and frustration and loss with such a tiny little word.

I wish you (and Angie) peace as the days drag you closer to the 13th.

Ashley said...

Kevin - I think it's amazing that you are writing about your feelings. Maybe you could give my husband some lessons....

I can completely relate to being angry the closer it gets to an angelversary. It'll be 2 years since we lost our son come November and like you, I get more and more angry the closer it gets.

Kevin said...

Thank you both for the comments. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one who relapses. My sympathies to you both on the upcoming anniversaries.

Angie said...

The days just keep passing by no matter how hard we try to slow them down. And each one that passes seems to break my heart a little more because they come and go and Aiden is still gone.

I'm proud of you for going against your nature and writing in this space. I love you.

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