I Will Always Love You

Is there a right or wrong way to grieve the loss of a child? I know there are many ways I wish I were compelled to grieve. I wish I were more dignified. More stoic. I wish I were a piece of fucking granite.

I just read about a guy who lost his brother to suicide, then a few years later, his mother passed away, so this guy, in his grief, is running something like 7 marathons in 7 days in 7 countries, or maybe 10 marathons, I don’t remember the specifics and can’t seem to find the article that popped up, sadistically, on my Facebook feed. But what he’s doing is BIG.

I wish I could do that. I wish, in my grief for Sam, I could suddenly start running marathons for suicide prevention, or start volunteering at the food bank, or write a book about my beautiful boy.

Instead, tonight, my grief might be called maudlin. (What the fuck?? As if a mother who loses a child could ever be called maudlin.) I’m drinking wine and listening to Dolly Parton, I Will Always Love You, on Spotify, tearfully, of course, full blast on my ear buds, while I’m vacuuming up dog hair. And I’m wondering if Sam knew how much I loved him.

I can’t run back-to-back marathons. I wish I could. I’d love to lose myself in something more heroic

than vacuuming. But I get out of bed in the morning. I’m still here on this planet. I’m walking and talking to people. I’m still breathing. That's so much more than I thought I'd be able to do if I lost one of my kids.

R.I.P. Dear Dolly. Please take care of my beautiful boy.

I hope life treats you kind

And I hope you have all you've dreamed of

And I wish to you joy and happiness

But above all this, I wish you love