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Shortly after Ryan died, my good friend Debra Brady, a pastor who has counseled her fair share of sad people, warned me that it would be the little things that would sneak up on me. She said I would prepare for big things like birthdays and anniversaries but unexpected things would stab me in that most tender of places. She was right. I have learned to call those unexpected stabs “landmines of the heart”. Here I am 31 months into our loss and they still sneak up on me. Last week there were several of those.

Spring is a difficult season for both Ron and me. The greening of the earth; the blossoms & buds; the new growth all around remind us the earth is coming to life again, yet our boy is still dead. This time of year also reminds us of the beginning of swim season. In our old life, that meant the smell of chlorine throughout our house; wet towels and Speedos tossed in the laundry room to be magically laundered and ready for the next day’s practice; a horde of kids gathered at our house most every day after practice and before homework. We miss those things so much.
But back to the land mines of the heart. Last week at the Gallo Center, I attended a fabulous concert by the Bands of the Irish Guards. I was thoroughly enjoying it until they played Pomp & Circumstance. I felt the tears filling my eyes and emotion rising in my chest. I realized the last time I heard that song was at Ryan’s high school graduation just 7 or 8 weeks before his death. The last time I heard it, my heart was overflowing with love and pride as I watched my precious boy, so full of promise, walk across the stage to accept his diploma. Now when I hear it, I am reminded of all we have lost.

On Sunday morning I made homemade cinnamon rolls for our new neighbors. Ryan loved my cinnamon rolls. He could and would eat an entire pan of them by himself. I have only made them a time or two since he died since they remind me of him so much.

Monday morning I was in the dentist’s chair for a routine cleaning. The radio began to play Superman by Five for Fighting, a song I knew and listened to through Ryan.

Yes, life goes on and time softens the pain enough that we can function in the world but I don’t think I will ever stop missing my boy.