July 23, 2005…and I’m okay

// March 23rd, 2011 // From the forthcoming book "Losing Steve: One Mother's Journey Through Grief"

….besides having a nasty cold.

These past few weeks I’ve thought about Steve more than usual, knowing this date was coming but not dreading it.

At 4:15 this morning we woke up to lightning and thunder ~ a masterpiece in God’s creation. Dave and I got up to watch from our living room as random strikes filled the valley with sudden white light. We counted the seconds between the light and the sometimes booming, sometimes rolling thunder. Some strikes were as little as a mile away.

When the storm was over we stayed up to get an early start on our day. We left the house at seven to join Nick and Corey at the desert. They went out last night to get in some riding during the cool night and to hang out at Steve’s spot, just the guys.

Standing on the hilltop in the warm, humid air I looked down the slope where Steve’s ashes were sprinkled two years ago to see that bits of him remain on the hillside, just as bits of him remain in our lives.
We didn’t stay long…didn’t need to. It’s comforting to go to his resting place and experience a sense of connectedness, each of us to him and to each other.

We got back home a little before noon and after a light lunch I took a much needed nap, waking at 3:20. I stayed on my bed, waiting for the 3:26 moment of my son’s death to pass.

Walking to the living room I felt so rested, so relieved (that I made it through this time unscathed? or just at peace?) Yes, at peace.
It’s 6:30 p.m. now and, except for feeling miserable from this cold, I feel great!

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