Dearest Justin,
As of today, I am seven years away from you. And that feels excruciatingly far. I wish the last time I hugged you was a week ago. And that it had been only four days since I heard your voice on the phone. And I wish I was expecting your call in the next few days and waiting for your visit accompanying me to the 4th of July fireworks you know I love so much. And knowing you, I would understand that you believed watching your aging, but still crazy Mom getting so excited about fireworks was a perfect way to spend some time with me. This awareness and quiet caring are among the things I miss most about you.
I recently came across this picture in your cousin’s photo album. You were about 14 when it was taken; already grown into your young man look, but retaining vestiges of my baby boy’s gentleness. I see kindness in your face, coupled with a calm determination so characteristic of you. You have a subtle, barely discernible smile in your eyes, and an overall expression that is thoughtful and serious at the same time it is open to the revelry around you. And even through your Urkel-like glasses you are beautiful. I love this image of you, and the remembrance of your spirit it evokes. I long for the day when looking at it brings only warmth, joy and a sense of being present with you; the day when anguished, heart stopping loss is not associated with this image at all. But I fear no matter how long I live, I’m unlikely to get there. Actually, time feels like the enemy in this regard, since the distance from you as years pass create their own trajectory of grief and pain. But cherishing and remembering you are more important than this pain my love. It is seven years ago today. I will miss you always. And you will be present with me forever.
As of today, I am seven years away from you. And that feels excruciatingly far. I wish the last time I hugged you was a week ago. And that it had been only four days since I heard your voice on the phone. And I wish I was expecting your call in the next few days and waiting for your visit accompanying me to the 4th of July fireworks you know I love so much. And knowing you, I would understand that you believed watching your aging, but still crazy Mom getting so excited about fireworks was a perfect way to spend some time with me. This awareness and quiet caring are among the things I miss most about you.
I recently came across this picture in your cousin’s photo album. You were about 14 when it was taken; already grown into your young man look, but retaining vestiges of my baby boy’s gentleness. I see kindness in your face, coupled with a calm determination so characteristic of you. You have a subtle, barely discernible smile in your eyes, and an overall expression that is thoughtful and serious at the same time it is open to the revelry around you. And even through your Urkel-like glasses you are beautiful. I love this image of you, and the remembrance of your spirit it evokes. I long for the day when looking at it brings only warmth, joy and a sense of being present with you; the day when anguished, heart stopping loss is not associated with this image at all. But I fear no matter how long I live, I’m unlikely to get there. Actually, time feels like the enemy in this regard, since the distance from you as years pass create their own trajectory of grief and pain. But cherishing and remembering you are more important than this pain my love. It is seven years ago today. I will miss you always. And you will be present with me forever.
Eternally, Your Mother
6/30/13
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