Sunday became a major milestone for me. For the first time since the accident, I stepped foot into Bennett’s room. We’re going away and some friends and family are going to finish Benny’s closet. I’m excited, don’t get me wrong. For the first time I just realized it’s a change. It’s an inevitable step in moving forward that needs to happen.
I just got out of the shower and it hit me that his room would change slightly. That people would be in there. Maybe his smell would disappear or something would be moved, even if ever so slightly. I started to think about what Benny would want. He was so happy and so brave, those are the best words to describe him. Nothing scared him or held him back. It was time for me to be the same. Maybe not happy, but brave.
I cannot describe what it was like. I don’t know what I expected. He was gone and as hard as it was being in his room, his space, it didn’t make it any more final like I guess I expected it would. His pajamas that he had worn the night before it happened were draped over the crib, his little shoes were sitting expectantly on the changing table. It was heartbreaking. To be among his stuff and know that he will never wear those shoes, or play with his toys. To turn on the cat piano and listen to the ridiculous songs that he loved and know that he will never enjoy them again. There’s a whole world of Bennett contained in that one little room.
There’s still dirty laundry. Pacifiers keep showing up behind the crib, in the rocking chair. Benny is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I think Darcy said it best when she said he was invisible. His smell is gone, which kills me. You don’t lose a person all at once, but in pieces over time. I’m not ready for this.