6790 Days
6790 days.
That's all the universe allowed me to have him. Every one of them feels like they were a vein in my heart, pumping life into me. From his first steps to the last big bear hug he gave me, I cherished every moment I had with my son. As I look back on those days, they seem shrouded in the mists of time, cloudy from my tears. I'm reminded of the profound truth that life is fragile, and every heartbeat is a gift that is never guaranteed.
The first day of school, those nerve-wracking hours when his tiny hand slipped into mine, bravely riding the bus to school. Nights spent at our little kitchen table for two, pouring over homework, concocting science experiments with recycled house items, or mixing up brownies with extra chocolate because it was his favorite indulgence. The soccer matches we cheered through, rain or shine, sometimes even snow. Countless hours in gyms during wrestling tournaments where he learned humility and pride, traits of a boy becoming a young man.
Those were the moments when we shared victories, both big and small. They may have been small accomplishments to some, but they were OUR victories, a life we built together despite the adversity life fumbled into our hands, not apologizing for its unjust tendencies. As long as we had each other, that cruelty from the world didn't seem to matter.
Only two months ago, time seemed to freeze in its tracks. Two months that feel like an infinity of despair. There is only before and after. Before and after his death. After being the hardest, a definitive end to my reality. As I stare at the lights in his room, the pictures of his smiles on the wall, shared accounts still blaring his name on every T.V., I pause in time. The smell of his essence wafting in the hallways, slowly fading, but never truly gone from my heart. The veins of memory still circulating, much slower.
The pain is sharp, the grief is heavy, and the absence is overwhelming. But even in this abyss of loss, the love we shared continues to shine, somewhere. In a fragment of hope I use to get up every day.
Today, I stand at the crossroads of past and present. Damon's spirit lives on in the memories we created, the love we shared, and the lessons he taught me about the preciousness of time. Reminiscing of those 6790 days and the two months that have crawled by, I'm reminded to embrace life even when it's hard. To be present in each fleeting moment, and to never take a single heartbeat for granted. I'm still learning.
I'm still trying Damon.
Forever your Mom in spirit.