I have been hiding out. Every part of my being has resisted writing about this since November 8th. It has been a long, dark road from there for me.
I haven’t wanted to write this out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of judgment, fear of offending someone. Please understand that this is my point of view based on my life experiences. Walking a mile in my shoes and all that.
I’ve been desperately sad. Three years is a very long time to not hold or kiss your child. It’s nearly double the amount of time that I got to have him on this Earth. That broken part of me that happened on November 8th is still there. It will always be there.
My daughter is now 3 years older as well. She was so little. Even though we speak of Benny often, I can see that her memories are fading a bit. It’s awful. I hate it.
My youngest son has now surpassed his older brother in age. Think about that for a moment. It seems like that defies logic. It does for me. I wish more than anything that they would grow up together as brothers.
I look at my husband as the only other human being who completely understands me and this pain. I cannot imagine what this would be like without his love and support.
I have made it three years, survived the unimaginable. I hate this anniversary that marks the passage of time away from my son. Every year is different and hard for various reasons. This year was different however. Because November 8th was also Election Day.
I tried so hard to separate my son’s tragedy from the circus that was going on. It was hard not to get sucked in though, it was hard not to be excited. It was the first time that my daughter was old enough to understand what was going on.
We went to the cemetery and brought Benny some be trinkets. My younger son sat in the grass and played with his departed brothers toys. It was bittersweet to watch. On one hand, they were playing together, on the other hand, it was close as they would get.
When we came home we began watching the electoral map. I tried so hard to distance myself from it all. It shouldn’t have mattered as much as my Bennett. Maybe that’s why it was so alluring, it was a break from our reality.
I stayed up and watched. Completely heartbroken. Completely shattered at what was happening. I honestly couldn’t figure out why I was so upset.
My husband kept saying, ‘don’t let this get to you. Today is about Benny.’
That’s when I understood. He was right, today was about Benny. It was about why I’m still here. It was about all of the love that we felt after our lives fell apart.
I felt disillusioned. In the moment that I understood that Trump had won, I felt that love had lost. You see, love is why we’ve made it as far as we have. The love that I share with the many family, friends and strangers that have lifted us up.
At least if I have to live in a world without my son, I was convinced that it was a good world, a kind world, filled with love. Now I’m not so sure. I’m confused. I’m devastated that what I thought all along, isn’t quite true. For me, it’s like learning that Santa isn’t real.
So bear with me. And if you don’t share my views, at least please respect them. I cannot help the way I feel.