You loved Christmas

Haven't posted for a while; running out of things to say, I guess, but I miss you every day. Can't imagine how your sister & dad do it, still living in the place you all shared. I don't cry much anymore, but today was a tough one. Every hymn we sang at Church reminded me of you. It started with the opening hymn. I know it's about Jesus, but phrases were so YOU! "He came down to earth from heaven" reminded me of the day you were born. "With the poor, and mean, and lowly" - that house you were born in was ours, but it was humble, indeed! "And our eyes at last shall see him" oh; no explanation needed!! Even the sacrament hymn touched my heart (and eyes) with "Once a meek and lowly lamb" - you were soooo mild, kind & gentle! and, "Once he suffered grief and pain" - I guess your headaches grew unbearably in those last few weeks. "Joy To The World" is, again, about the Savior, but OOHH, how I will rejoice to see you again! "Silent Night" again took me back to the incredible moment of your birth. I remember all five births; documented each one in my journals, but since your passing yours has stayed more in my memory. Then, as if that wasn't enough, I got the distinct impression you had gathered the old Boffey family choir from your side of the veil to sing with me. It was fun, but sooo hard to bear. Keep singing, child; you only did it quietly on earth but I'm sure those Boffeys have been coaching you up to full volume :-)

Unexpected grieving

I surprised myself today. I was in a progress interview at work. Don't like 'em; just want to get on with my job. Don't feel it's my responsiblity to assess myself for them. Anyway, for some reason I got emotional & blurted out how much I miss you; that I have never felt I've taken enough time to mourn. Then I had to admit that even if I spent a year on a Tibetan mountain it probably wouldn't be long enough. I think I probably shocked some people when I recently posted on Facebook that, "Seeing the Savior will be nice, but being with George, now THAT will be Heaven" but it's true. The Savior is always with us; you are not. At least, not the way you were.

We just had a marvelous General Conference. I remember the ones we watched together. Several messages were about hope and there being no room for despair in the Gospel but the one that spoke to me most was when a Seventy described how he was feeling overwhelmed with his new responsibilities & as Pres. Monson saw him looking at the floor he told him, "I always find it's better to look up."

So I will try, dear boy, to look up. Most of the time :-)

Not writing much these days

I live with my new Galaxy tablet (you would have liked it) & it won't let me post anymore, so I rarely sit at the laptop. Anyway, I still miss you and want more than anything to be with you but I have determined I must walk the path I have been given without you. It hurts, but that's just the way it is.

I stopped by with your Aunt Janet a couple of weeks ago. We were on a 3-week trek and now she's home in England. She didn't know you well but loves you, as do we all. We took time to go to Ida's restaurant & talk about you. Ida misses you sooo much. Good people have good friends.

You will never be forgotten by anyone who has met you :-)

Visiting your grave

I stopped by to visit you on my way out of Salt Lake this morning. The only flower I could afford was an orange Day Lily blossom from outside your dad's apartment. I had put it there when Livvie & I went by last night. It was already wilted but I repositioned it defiantly, hoping the sprinklers would revive it a little.

Then I sat in my little blue car and cried for you. For the thousandth time I longed to change places with you; surely your beautiful, funny presence would serve this world more effectively than my failing grace? But that is not our call, so we move on; me back to an increasingly hum-drum life in Oregon and you to whatever tasks await the Blessed.

I love you, not-so-baby boy.

Another month goes by

I keep thinking the grieving is over; then I start to miss the grieving itself! Tonight I was putting some family photos in a new frame because the old, dearly beloved one had fallen apart. I broke one of the pieces of glass and was in tears instantly. I NEEDED to get that one little job done so I could hang your picture back on the wall of our home.

Every time I think I've left you behind I find myself starting all over again at stage 1: Denial. Oh, Gingle, if you only knew; but you probably do. I miss you and am SOOO proud of you for your progress to a life I can still only dream about. I will make it to you; I PROMISE!

Black ribbons

Pink ribbons make me sad. I know I could wear one for 'Rissa's victory over Hodgkins Lymphoma, but what do I wear for George? Everybody gets so all-fired-up about beating cancer or knowing someone who did. Some of us don't feel so lucky. Some of us have to go on empty-handed, with nothing but fading memories of lives NOT lived; at least, not lived long enough.

Survivor's guilt, loss, anger, all those things slow me down. People have told me how brave I am and how well I am handling this.

They have no idea!

I miss your voice

Just minding my own business, working away, when suddenly I find myself craving the sound of your voice. We have no recordings; no home movies; nothing but flat paper photographs. Didn't figure we would ever need them because you would always be there. Why, oh WHY didn't we take the time/effort to preserve more of you for ourselves? What if I wake up one day and don't remember the soft sound of the gentle sibilance you inherited from your father? How can we recapture what is lost? How do we move on without tearing ourselves apart.

I know I will see you again, but I want you back, NOW.