This last week has been difficult for me. I could even tell how much the depression has set in. I was hurting, I was pushing people away, I was finding myself hide under my covers. But today, I needed to take a trip down the road, a journey.
As I was driving down 8th Avenue heading toward my storage unit, whenever I looked into my rear view mirror, I would see Timothy, in his power wheelchair with his sunglasses on & sitting in front of the large Disney cruise-ship.
It was the large 30"x60" poster board that the Make -a - Wish made for us. It had the 3 great photos of Timothy when he went on the disney cruise in 2000. The 3 of him on their Cast away Island. But the only large (11x16) photo I could see was the one of Timothy in his sunglasses front of the Disney Cruise ship.
When I drive, I depend on my mirrors for all that I do when It comes to driving. But on this day, as I look into my rear view mirror, I would see my son, Timothy. Tears started to fall down my face. I could not - I did not want this to stop.
One year ago today (day, not date) was the last time I saw my son. He laid in the coffin, cold and pale. I continued to rub the top of his head. Its what he would had wanted and it is what I was use to. I did not realize the coldness of his body. I was some how connecting myself to him, my son.
Than I drove up to the last place where we lived, I wanted to see what flowers were popping up that I had planted the year before Tim's death. I could see some of the wild flowers coming up. I didn't want to get back into the car. That meant I would have to go to the storage unit. I cried. This journey to the storage unit kept me focused on the rear view mirror for Tim, while the side view mirrors kept me focused on the road the cars that followed me.
As I drove up the storage unit, I watched the gate opened, I looked into the mirror, and there he sat in his first power wheel chair. He was just turning 11 years old when we went on that cruise. As I drove up to my storage unit, I again looked in my rear view mirror as I cried more. I opened the storage unit door and looked in, so much to get rid of still, but here laid all the things that Tim and I owned. His photo albums just sat on the shelf. At the moment I needed to look at them, but I couldn't get to them and as it was I was already weeping.
I opened the tail gate and reached for the large poster board and found a safe place to put it. I stepped into the car and sat there. My fear was to look into the mirror, but I knew eventually I would need too. I looked up after weeping more and looked into the rear view mirror - he was gone. Gone.
I wept more. Its funny how things around us, or sounds we hear, or things we touch reminds us of our children who have gone before us. The rear view mirror helped me to see Timothy again. The mirror didn't show me of my 25 year old son with the beard, but my 11 year old son with his sun glasses or even with hat. The rear view mirror reminded me of this new journey I needed to be on, whether it included the memory of Timothy or not.
Now when I look into that mirror, I will now see different cars that should be behind me, but it will also remind me of Timothy.
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