Heartbreak of a Different Kind

I know that the posts are becoming farther apart as the months pass. While part of me regrets that, the other part of me is glad that my world does not revolve around melanoma and how it has destroyed my family. My thoughts of melanoma are never far away, and I continue to do all I can to educate people. I still check in on lots of melanoma patients, and I still pray every single day for a cure.

I had a very difficult experience in the early hours this morning. Tye crawled into bed with me in the night. I snuggled him up tight and put my arm around him. He said...Mom, I forget what Daddy's face looks like.

Oh

My

God!

I promised him we would look at pictures today, and that I would hang pictures back up this weekend. They are all still packed. I completely intended to put them back up, I just barely have the painting done, and I'm not for sure where I want everything. To say I was heartbroken would be an understatement. He dozed off to sleep and all I could do was sob. I have cried several times today. I guess I knew it might happen. It happened to me with my own mom, and I was 33 years old. It has happened with my grandparents, and I have struggled more with forgetting what they sound like. But my memories of Brian still are fresh. So having him tell me that made me feel like such a failure. While I am trying to pick up the pieces, have a really done all that great of a job of helping Tye remember? We talk about Daddy a lot. I just can feel what he might be feeling about not remembering, and I know how bad that feels.

And dang it, it isn't supposed to be like this. Wake me up from this freaking nightmare because I am so tired of dealing with it all. It is hard enough for me, and knowing how desperately I miss him and long to feel his kisses, his arms around me, hear his voice, and feel his love. But all that pales in comparison to how bad I feel that this beautiful, amazing, ornery, fun-loving child misses his Daddy. I would take on any additional pain if I could take it away from him; if I could take away the loss he must feel, and the loss that will always be there.

I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised. There have been some comments lately that have made me think he is forgetting. He has asked some odd questions, and asks a lot more lately about what Daddy was like. Did he do this when he was a little boy? Did he like this food? What was his favorite color? What kind of car did he drive?

I could scream. I wish I could. I just might. I should be able to, right? I should be able to be angry that this is where we are at in our grief, right? Funny thing, I don't want anyone to pity him. I don't want pity either. But yet, I feel so much regret for him, I feel so sorry for him, so sad for him.

Maybe it is because others just take their parents for granted. But I look at Tye and think he would be the perfect son for his Daddy to have. He would have wanted to do all the Daddy-Son things, and would have brought so much joy to Brian in turn. He would have wanted to play catch and go fishing and work in the garage, to just run errands with Daddy on a Saturday morning while Mommy is trying to clean house or do laundry.

And it is all gone. Doing those things with Mommy just isn't the same. I can't pretend it is the same. I simply can't be both his Mom and Dad. Do I fill a lot of Brian's role, yes of course. But the gap is there, and today in the wee hours of the morning, it felt more like a canyon that was going to swallow me up.