Another Milestone

Grief is not linear. Secondary losses are abundant. Another milestone is always on the horizon.

This year the class of 2031 began their 13 year journey through the education system. There will be one student absent the entire time. Few will ever know or notice. His name will not appear on a class roster. He will not be assigned a lunch number. He will not go on field trips. He will not play sports. He will not go to prom. He will not walk across the stage at graduation. He will not be there to look out for his little sister.

With the first week of school behind me, I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around all that should have been, but never will be. I should be a little sad that time is passing so quickly and that my son is already five and a half and starting kindergarten. My life should be drastically changing this year as I walk him to his classroom before rushing to work. I should be looking around at his classmates and wondering...wondering, that with the passing of time, which of them would be his best friend, his teammates, dates, girlfriends, lab partners, shoulder buddies, and so much more.

When I face milestones such as this one, I put all the effort I can muster into maintaining a sense of acceptance about the reality of my loss, but the disbelief...and depression...and anger tend to make their way to the surface. Against my will, my mind replays moments from THAT day over and over. Knowing milestones are inevitable, even anticipating their arrival does not make them hurt less.

And now, before I’ve even regained my footing from the weight, from the hammering, the pounding, the thrashing of this latest wave of grief, I must begin bracing myself for yet another milestone. It’s just on the horizon.