Grief has been described to me as a flood, ruining lives. Grief has been described to me as a tornado, destroying everything in its path. But to me, loosing Carter has been a lot like a series of thunderstorms. Some days the rain is gentle. I’m able to wake in the morning, go through my daily routine, and make it through the day. The rain is soft and a reminder of new life, sweet smells, and rainbows. Other days, the rain is so blinding I can’t even catch my breath, struggle to see in front of me, and stop in fear of what will happen next.
Maggie lost her first tooth last week. Cooper helped pull it which was so exciting for him! Todd is the expert tooth puller in the Mayes household. I sit back and cheer everyone on! This time it was different. I smiled and cheered Maggie on. She was so excited. Cooper was so excited. I fought to hold back the tears. I gripped my stomach as the physical pain was so intense I was scared I might get sick. I struggled to maintain normalcy. Carter should be here. He should.
Cooper’s team is in the middle of playoffs. He has worked so hard this year to improve as a ball player. I have seen him so proud of his accomplishments. Todd has helped coach which has been good for him (and Cooper). Cooper’s games are so intensely entertaining. I sit back and cheer everyone on! Each game, as Cooper #8 (Carter’s old number), stands at the plate to bat, I fight to hold back the tears. I find myself gripping my stomach as the physical pain is so intense I am scared I might get sick. I struggle to maintain normalcy. Carter should be here. He should.
We attended Cooper’s Cub Scout bridge ceremony a week ago. It’s a ceremony where the Cub Scout crosses the bridge to the next level of scouting. Before the ceremony in a moment of confusion we couldn’t find Cooper’s Cub Scout belt. We were pressed for time so I did the only thing I knew to do. I reached deep in my closet for my box of special Carter memories and pulled Carter’s Cub Scout belt out for Cooper to wear. As I laced the belt through the loops, I look up and Cooper’s eyes are filled with tears. I watch Carter’s Cub Scout den cross the bridge (before Cooper's den), each smiling proudly as the ‘graduate’ to the next scouting level. I fight to hold back the tears. I find myself gripping my stomach as the physical pain is so intense I am scared I might get sick. I struggle to maintain normalcy. Carter should be here. He should.
As I write this I receive a call from Cooper’s summer camp director, Clinton. I called him this morning to give him a heads up on Cooper’s family dynamic before Coop arrives at camp. I can’t even get the words out of my mouth. I start crying as I begin to talk. My tongue gets stuck in my throat and I can’t say anything. Its times like this I realize the thunderstorm is at its worst. I can’t see through the rain. My heart beats so hard I feel like it might fall out of my chest. I can’t do this, I think. It hurts too much, I just want the pain to stop. Then, the rain passes. Clinton begins to pray with me on the phone. I feel at peace and I know I will once again be ‘ok’.
Daily I pray that there will be a day when I won’t cry. Daily I pray that there will be a day that I don’t fall asleep praying I won’t wake up. Daily I pray that the guilt in my heart will lesson. Each day I pray that it will get easier. And, some moments, are easier….and for those ‘gentle rains’, I will forever be grateful.
