Nine years & 51 days

It's hard to believe that it has truly been nine years and 51 days since you were on this earth. It's been nine years and 54 days since I had the honor of hearing your voice even if it was only less than 30 seconds. I'm lucky in the fact that the last phone call, as short as it was, was absolutely the best one ever. You were so excited about your Peyton Manning autogrpahed picture that would be waiting on you when you returned home from Afghanistan for your 23rd birthday. All you could say was, that's crazy, that's just crazy. How did you do that mom? That's crazy and then we lost the connection. I remember telling Tebo immediately that I didn't get to tell you that I loved you before the call dropped so next time I was going to say "I love you" first and then we can chat. Sadly, there would never be a next time. People ask me if things get easier or better. My answer is always the same, NO! It never gets easier or better nor would I want it to be easier or better. Do you find a better way of facing this world, yes (sadly), but it never gets easier or better. I know I will always and forever feel the way I feel today until the day the good Lord decides my time on this earth is done. I'm ready any time he is to be done. There are many people in my life, mostly family, will probably crenge when/if they read this, but I didn't not only lose my only child, but I lost my bonus daughter too. I never thought I would be a good mother in law. I figured since Chad was an only child and a son at that, that I would never be able to accept a daughter in law, because I had never had to share him with a girl, ever. However, I have to say, because my son loved her like he did, so did I. I was excited to be her bonus mom and enjoy life with them and watch them grow and have babies one day, but that was not to be. I have been very fortunate that through my husband I have two wonderful bonus daughters and a bonus son and now two more bonus sons. I was honored to get to partcipate in both daughters' weddings and we have on granddaughter (at the moment) and I'm blessed to be able to be an "Ammy" with her and I look forward to one day having more. Nothing will ever change the fact that I will never know what it truly feels like to have my own blood grandchild and watch my son become a father, but I've been fortunate enough to be allowed to be "Ammy" to my niece and her soon to be baby boy, Cohen Wade Taylor (named after Chad). I will cherish every moment of little Cohen Wade's life and yes, I will be spoiling him any chance I get. I mean, that's what Ammy's are for. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I am definitely not the same person I was before Wednesday, December 1, 2010. I never will be that person again. I do strive to be better each day, but I will never be that person again. That part of me died the moment Chad died. It just is what it is for me and this is my new "normal" if that's what we want to call it. Losing a child is not a "group" or "club" anyone wants nor should be a part of. It's not the natural cycle of life. I've said it many times as have others. If you live long enough you will bury your parents and possibly a spouse, but you should not have to out live your child(children). That is not the normal cycle of life, but it apparently is God's plan. I don't pretend to understand why and I have not ever (consciously) asked why. I do wonder how in the world I am able to keep breathing when I feel my heart literally breaks every time I open my eyes and realize I am still here. I am amazed by the fact that my heart can feel like it does and yet I continue to open my eyes and breathe every day. How is that even possible? I guess I will never know the answer to that until I join Chad in heaven. A friend of mine once said, "you don't know how strong you are until that is all you have". That is true. I don't consider myself "strong", but it is definitely an unknown stregnth that keeps me going every day. I used to think it was for daddy, but now daddy is gone too and some how I continue to breathe and wake every morning. That is something I will never truly understand and maybe I am not supposed to understand. Either way, it sucks. Yes, I still have a room set up for him with what few things I have left of his. I don't know if that is healthy or not, but for me it somehow makes me feel like he is still part of our lives and we haven't just up and left him. I know, I know... It sounds crazy and just keeping his room set up and his cereal bowl in the kitchen cabinet and his no scent in the laundry room will not bring him back or make this all just a nightmare, but for me it just feels like the "normal" thing I would do if he were here and makes me feel like a piece of him is still here. Logically, I know this not to be true, but when has the heart ever been real logical? I'm not sure when or if this will ever change for me, but for now this is all I know and the only way I know how to get through each day without him. My life will never be as it was, I just try to make the best of what I do call "normal" now and try to be the best person I can be. I don't know why I'm here and he is not, but it wasn't my plan, it was HIS. Until the day I see you again, son, I will continue to love you and make sure you are never forgotten. Love, Momma Bear