Saturday, February 23, 2013

More Than A Memory: A year since you left



It is said that when you lose someone you love, you enter the stages of grieving. These steps include denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. One stage may be visited longer than another and sometimes those who are grieving revert back to a prior stage or simply start at the beginning again. They say that once you’ve reached the stage of acceptance, you learn to continue your life, holding close to your heart the memory of the one you lost. 

I don’t know who initially came up with this idea or these steps, but I must say that they do know something about losing a loved one. It was hard. There were moments in which I refused to believe you were gone. Some moments were filled with despicable shouting and rage. I spent weeks asking if there was anything I could have done to save you that night, negotiating and bargaining with myself. And finally, I fell into an extreme hopelessness before accepting that you are now in Heaven. It was beyond hard. That part, they were right about. 

But what these people didn’t know was what life was like with you in it. They didn’t grow up with you by their side. They had never heard you burst into laughter or caught the excitement in your voice when you talked about fixing an old truck. They were never the victim of one of your sly insults, with that cunning grin plastered on your face. They were never blessed by knowing you. And so when they say that after accepting you’re in Heaven and no longer on earth, we learn to keep living life, holding your memory close to our heart… they have it wrong. 

You are more than a memory. You’re the whisper of the wind in the middle of hunting season. You’re the laugh of a two year old who has your eyes. You’re a reoccurring tear on the cheek of your mom and dad. You’re the pictures in the frames, smiling back at us. The purr of an old engine being revved. And sometimes when I least expect it, you’re right beside me, reminding me that it’s all going to be alright. 

You are more than a memory, Joshua Tyler Shelton. And though we miss you greatly, we thank you for a year full of reminders.

I love you,
Brittany Jade