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As we approached the one year anniversary of Ryan’s death, July loomed like a big scary monster. His death occurred on the 29th but the entire month was tainted.

The Fourth of July holiday had always been one of Ryan’s favorites. He loved fireworks, barbeques, and the downtown parade. He would become excited when the fireworks stands began popping up around town in the final days of June and begin badgering me about how much he could spend that year on what I thought was a huge waste of money. For the first few years we were in Modesto, while still young boys, Ryan and his buddies staged “fireworks extravaganzas” on the old beat up tennis court in our backyard. All the moms and some of the dads would traipse down the hill and sit in the gazebo while the boys put on their pyrotechnics show. They were so proud of themselves. We parents sat back, watching our money go up in smoke and hoping no one lost a hand or finger before the night was over. I couldn’t help but re-live those fun nights of yore when the first Independence Day without Ryan rolled around.

For the 4th, we were invited to a barbeque at our friends, the Pughs, and we went even though we knew it was going to be hard being there without Ryan. Once during the party, I quietly slipped away from the crowd, realizing I was on the verge of tears. It’s hard to be part of a festive crowd when your heart is broken. I sat alone on the front doorsteps for a while until Ryan’s friend Alyssa found me there. She sat with me and we both cried for a bit. She reminded me of a story I had told her when we had bumped into each other in the mall a few weeks before Ryan’s death. On that day, I had relayed a story to her of a conversation that had taken place between Ryan and me about sleep. I had been nagging him about needing to sleep more and he said to me “Ma, I can sleep when I’m dead. I’ve got things to do now.” It was eerie to be reminded of that conversation.

Throughout the entire month of July, I played the “on this day last year” game as I recalled the anniversary of significant days. Our neighborhood going away party; the day we moved out of our Modesto house, the day Ryan hosted his own goodbye party in our totally empty house and later told me it was the most fun night of his life; the day he left California for the last time, headed to St. Louis for college orientation and then on to Austin, Texas for camp; the day we moved into our new home; the day the Harry Potter book was released and Ryan bought one in an airport bookstore; and on & on. I relived the last days of my son’s life and the last days of my life as I knew it. All the while, July 29 was barreling down on us like an enormous snowball taking on speed. We wanted to run and hide but we knew "wherever you go, there you are".