A Broken Heart

It's been a while since I've written any thoughts down about the loss of our little Jack. But this doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about him. On the contrary, he is almost constantly on my mind from my first waking moment in the day until the very last one at night. I miss him so much. Stacy misses him so much. We miss him so much together.

Memorial Day looked like it was going to be just any other day, in terms of how we are coping with things now, which is to say, not so bad. But when we stopped by the cemetery this afternoon, the flood gates opened and all the heartbreak felt new again. There were a lot of people there, milling about, which is unusual. Often our family is the only one there, at least at the times when we have visited. Many of the graves had new flowers placed on them today. It looked really nice. But I couldn't help but think that I did not belong there. This is not how my story was supposed to go. "What are we doing here?" I asked Stacy as we, arm in arm, cried over our son's grave. "I still can't believe this has happened." Even though it's been a little more than four months, it seems as unreal to me today as it did on January 12.

I had never in my life truly experienced heartbreak before Jack died. Not like this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I now have more empathy for others when I hear they've lost a loved one, and most especially a child. It is like having a broken heart, or as my wonderful boss put it when we were talking a few weeks ago, it feels like I've been wounded. Wounded. Stacy and I have giant, gaping, emotional wounds and there are no band-aids big enough to cover them up. (Though there certainly are many fine ointments to help manage the pain.) Wounded is exactly the right way to describe how I have felt these last four months. The good thing is that all wounds heal, right? But they always leave a scar. Certainly the big ones do. This one will, and that's actually okay with me, because then I won't ever forget what caused it.

The reality is that I know I need no visual or physical reminder to keep Jack in my thoughts, but I can say quite honestly that one of my new greatest fears in life is that he will be forgotten. Not forgotten by me, but by the world. Life has continued to go on for everyone except for him. (Life on this earth, at least.) I can't stand the thought of the people around us not knowing him or, worse yet, forgetting him. This thought drives me to the edge of insanity and it's good I don't dwell there very often and not for very long. Jack is truly unforgettable to me, and the more I think about him and appreciate him and love him, the more I want people to know him and remember him and love him, too. The thought of him being forgotten causes a new wound, a new heartbreak, to open up whenever it crosses my mind.

I now know why people start foundations or establish scholarships or raise monuments on behalf of their deceased loved ones. We search for ways to keep their memory alive on earth so that they will not be forgotten as life continues to move forward.

I had to move forward with my work last week. I traveled to New York City for some business projects and to see a lot of shows. New York City is the place I was at when Jack passed away, so for me, I knew going back there would not be easy. I'm glad I went, though. I didn't for one moment believe something bad would happen to my family while I was away (even though I had every reason to do so). Perhaps I'm naive or an eternal optimist, but I knew I had to get back on the horse and continue to do my work and dream my dreams. The pursuit of great things in life (family and/or work) follows a path of great challenge and great reward. The journey is most definitely worth taking, even though some of the setbacks truly create horrible heartbreak along the way.

Every night after family prayer we all put our hands together and say "Sure do love ya!" Now we say "Sure do love Jack!" Jack is pictured on the left in the red pajamas.