I suppose I should kick this thing off by introducing myself and explaining why I’m here, just in case anyone ever reads this who doesn’t already know.
My name is Gary; I’m in my late forties.
Almost six months ago my oldest child was killed in an automobile accident. This blog is one way I hope to be able to process my emotions related to this trauma and somehow figure out a way to rebuild the lives of myself and those who remain in my family.
I suppose I should get this out of the way too. Kevin, technically was my step-son but he didn’t feel like anything other than my child. I was part of his life from when he was 2. He lived with me from the time he was 4. I helped coach his baseball and soccer teams. I drove him all over the state for soccer games. I took trips with him to tournaments, I was proud of him when he did well, I commiserated with him when he didn’t. We took vacations together. I helped him with his homework, I picked him up when he got drunk at 15 and grounded him for the same. He drove me mad, he made me laugh. When he graduated High School I was glowing with pride. When he dropped out of college I worked with him on how to move on with his life. I was crazy angry with anyone who wronged him. I was especially fond of the adult he was becoming.
In short, he was my child, my oldest son. I don’t mean this as any disrespect to Kevin’s biological father. He remained involved in his life throughout, and a lot of guys don’t do that. I explain this so as to explain my loss. I am a bereaved parent.
His death is without any doubt the worst thing that has ever happened to me, to my wife and to my other two children.
It is an emotional amputation.
And like any new amputee, I’m struggling with figuring out how to move forward and rebuild my life. Most days I’m sad. Some days I’m angry. On rare occasions I almost feel OK, but then I feel guilty.
I know I’ve changed… am still changing. I’m trying my hardest to make the new me be someone Kevin would be proud of.
Funny how that’s worked out, now I’m trying to make HIM proud.
About a month after Kevin died I began to write. It’s my “self-therapy”. Many times I choose to write, but sometimes I’m compelled to. Sometimes a thought starts banging around in my head until I do something with it. If I try to leave it alone it demands to be heard.
I write about a lot of different things; memories, wishes, God, the afterlife, pain, struggle, confusion, wherever my head happens to be that day that’s what I write. That’s sort of what this blog will be about. Whatever is on my mind that day.