Wednesday, October 1, 2014

As the Fall Settles In

Tomorrow will mark eleven months since my 9-year-old nephew was killed when a driver left the roadway and killed Lucian on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is starting to turn more towards fall and away from summer. It's starting to be more like the weather when IT happened, that moment that divided my family into Before and After.

We have weathered our year of firsts- the first of every holiday After. The first Thanksgiving After, the first Christmas shopping After: How many times did I see something cool and think, "I'll bet Lucian would really like that." And then I would remember. Birthdays, family gatherings, vacations and celebrations- they've all come and gone and we've all been very aware that Lucian was missing; that he should have been there.

My oldest son turned 9 this year- the age that Lucian was and will always be. It didn't seem right or fair. Lucian was always supposed to be the older cousin.

There have been times in this last year when I've thought of him, of his parents and his brother and I've thought that IT didn't happen- IT couldn't have happened- and then I remember that IT did. Sometimes when I remember, it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Sometimes the tears physically hurt- they start in the center of my chest and work their way up my throat before they come spilling out of my eyes.

Mostly I have been able to think about Lucian with life and love and laughter. We have talked about him often- my children have had a need to discuss Lucian- who he was, what he liked and what he meant to them. We have bought books he loved or would have enjoyed and donated them to the library at my kids' school. We have talked about him when we've flown kites and played baseball and walked in the woods. We've talked about him when they were making contraptions out of Legos. He was important to us and we have missed him.

As the weather has begun to turn, though, I find myself transported to the day that compartmentalizes us- the one that thrust us into After. I remember the flat, lifeless sound of my mother's voice as she told me the words that couldn't be real. I remember the heartbreak in my father's voice when I talked to him later that evening. My phone wouldn't stop ringing and no one told me what I wanted to hear- that IT didn't happen. When I think about those phone calls and the sound of people whom I love so dearly in so much pain, that's when the tears come the hardest. Those phone calls have left a scar behind- a brand that hurts when you touch it.

I can't say that I'm moving on. That makes it seem like I'm leaving something behind and that's clearly not the case. I can say that I'm moving forward. I can think about him without always thinking of his death. I do not tell every stranger I meet about what happened (I was doing that for a while- I couldn't help myself.)

I may no longer think of fall as a season of rest, though. It has become a season of sorrow instead. Hopefully not forever, but at least for a little while.




4 comments:

Max Consec said...

Betsy, as someone who has lost a sibling in a sudden and tragic way, I understand the bittersweet nature of your life experiences right now. Perhaps it is some comfort that the pain does lessen with time, but what never really changes is that when we stop to reflect and think, really think about how that loss affected us, the pain returns, fresh and hot and burning, as if it had happened yesterday. So most of us choose not to dwell on these thoughts too often in order to avoid this pain. I guess it's called coping. But by leaving these thoughts behind, by putting them away, it does feel like a part of you has died with them. We are forever changed.

Betsy said...

Max, Thank you for your comment. I'm not very good at ignoring the elephant in the room, so I'm more inclined to talk about Lucian than not. I would rather feel the pain than try to contain my thoughts. I don't want us to go forward pretending he never existed- I don't think that's fair to him or to us.

I don't know if my siblings feel the same way- we don't live close to one another, so we don't get a chance to speak often, so when I've gotten together with them, I've been much more inclined to hold back. You know how it is- I think "They're not sad right now- I don't want to bring the sad back to the surface" and then the comment goes unsaid. I'm much more unfiltered with my parents and my husband and my kids.

Forever changed is right though. And even though this year has been difficult, I'd still rather have had him in my life for nine years than not had him in my life. He was a really neat person.

Lucy Bowen said...

Oh Betsy, I cried and cried. I have no words, I have never been through anything like this so cannot begin to imagine what it feels like. I think you have handled it with such love, kindness and dignity, you are an inspiration. I am thinking of you.

Betsy said...

Thank you Lucy- I've got some very good guidance from some very loving people in my life which makes it easier.