As August begins, once again I have to ask...what the hell happened to January through July? What evil time warp switches on in January and makes time zip by until August?
And then it begins again...the endless memories and mental tortures that August brings. At the beginning of August, he could walk and talk, but he'd begun to have seizures.
New drug trial....
Hope....
Then the treatment almost kills him.
There's nothing more we can do for him. Take him home, keep him comfortable.
How do you tell a 12-year-old the doctors can't help him anymore?
How do you tell a 14-year-old her brother will soon die?
No more speech. Can't walk. But those eyes...those wise old eyes in a little boy's face! Right to the end, they looked at me with so much knowledge. He knew so much, but couldn't tell us.
Helplessness of the absolute worst kind.
Then Death came.
Seven years...how can it be so long since all of that happened and yet still feel so fresh?
This year brings a new challenge for me in that it is the first year since Keeghan's death that I have had a job. For the past six Augusts, I've been able to face the month with the knowledge that, when it was necessary, I could break down. No boundaries to limit my need to feel. Now, I have got to keep it together 40+ hours per week.
On top of that, I have to deal with the invariable comments and questions that, while not asked with any malice, cut to the soul. The people who can't come close to imagining what it feels like to watch your child die...thinking that it gets easier with time, that at some point you get over it...move on...make peace with the loss.
It really should be legal to occasionally throat punch people. Truly.
So it begins. Twenty-nine more days until we once again mark that anniversary that has no name. I just call it The Day Keeghan Left, because calling it The Day That My Heart Broke in a Way That Can Never Heal takes too long.
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