Ever since Mikey died, I keep hearing things like, “time will ease your pain, but it will never completely go away.” Or “you will never be the same.” I keep reading here and there that holidays, birthdays and other special occasions will spawn terrible sadness for a very long time.

Maybe that’s correct. God knows, I love the boy as much as life itself, and lurking somewhere beneath this relatively-okay-ness and comfy layer of what I assume is denial is a deep, dark well of pain and anger and grief that will eventually probably crush me like a baby spider under a brick.


That well will have toeholds. It will take me awhile, once I fall in, to adjust to where I am and start finding the few things I can hold onto to haul myself out. It will test me in all kinds of ways. But eventually, in a year or two or five or more, I WILL climb out. Damned if I intend to let someone as wonderful as Mikey cast a shadow over my remaining happy times. I can’t control anyone else, and this will surely not be easy. Probably the hardest thing anyone in my family will ever have to do.

But Mikey was the personification of love, forgiveness, fun and wackiness. And I will be damned if I am going to associate him for the rest of my life with tears and loss and heartbreak and injustice and anger and guilt and all things bad. I suppose people are right when they say I’ll never be the same, but I intend it to be an evolution for the better.