We’ve made it through our first year as grieving parents. I thought I’d post a few observations.

• Even after a year I still can’t believe this is real. I’m still waiting to wake up and the nightmare to end.
• I’ve only seen Richard in one dream. I would have expected to see him many times over the span of a year. But there has been just the one time. That one time was the most intense dream I’ve ever had. Maybe because I think about him all the time when I’m awake my brain needs a break and refuses to dream about him too.
• We’ve been told the second year is harder than the first. Is that possible? Not looking forward to that.
• I’ve heard a lot of bereaved parents talk about the comfort they get visiting their child’s grave. I don’t feel comfort there. I feel sadness. But I still go because… that’s my kid.
• Having a dead kid makes you do strange stuff. Like planting strawberries at your child’s grave.
• When you’re in a room full of grieving parents the power of the sorrow is so strong it’s like a force field that just grabs you. You can physically feel it’s power.
• Finding a proper image to begin each of these blog posts is often a pain. I may go image free.
• When I talk to Richard at the cemetery, my most frequent statement is, “I just can’t believe we – you and I – let this happen to you. This just shouldn’t have happened kid.” He’s probably tired of hearing it by now.
• Bereaved parent support groups really like butterfly images.
• Early on I sometime had the feeling – a sense – that Richard was nearby. I don’t get that feeling anymore.
• Having your child die is nothing like having your mother die, even though I miss them both a lot.
• My clothes are much tighter now than a year ago. I guess grief is fattening.
• I know there are videos in our house of Richard growing up. I haven’t found the courage to dig them out and watch them. I may never have that much courage.
• Most of Richard’s stuff is still here. I’d like to get rid of the the U of L stuff but Debbie won’t let me.