18 Years With and Without You

A few days ago, as our family sat around the kitchen island talking about the pandemic, the idea came up about how different our home would have looked if you were alive today. Everyone acknowledged that you would have been 18 and what a full house it would be. The older boys believed that you would be their buddy, playing video games and working out with them. The middle oldest wondered if he would have been born so soon after you, which made the middle youngest wonder if he would have been born at all. The littlest was oblivious and naturally assumed that she would be here regardless but also if you could be alive, why couldn't we just go and get you out of the casket (her words)? We decided that this birthday/deathaversary we would go the cemetery together and your siblings also asked if we could bake a cake to mark the day.

We woke up to a glorious day, this May 3rd. It was easy to forget that we are going into the 8th week of self-isolation in the COVID-19 pandemic. We took a slow approach to the day, having coffee on the back deck and watching the littlest blow bubbles.

Some things had to be different this year, due to the pandemic, we didn't have the luxury to scope out flower shops to find the blue orchids that we normally take to the graveside. This day is held sacred so that we can honour our relationship with you and often it is a time to feel the grief over your absence. This year it is difficult to feel anything. I assume it is because we are holding onto so much just to keep working, to manage your siblings emotional, psychological and scholastic needs and to remain focused on the here and now. We are in a holding pattern, so familiar to the early days after you died, when each day blurred into the next and we felt isolated from the reality everyone else still had access to. Except now we are all in the same reality, no one is immune to the pandemic or the emotions it may provoke.

We headed out to the cemetery, Landy and I on the motorcycle and our oldest driving the rest in the car. The motorcycle is the most freedom we have from the family these days; a date on the open road. I don't remember the last time that we were all at the graveside. I know that we have not been there since the littlest was born, it was comforting to have us all there to honour this day. And yet, it is always hard to see your name etched in stone, that will never get easier.

I have said often that I am so grateful for the people who have come into our lives since your death. They didn't know you and they never met you, but our friends have never let that be a barrier to honouring you, talking about you and dreaming about you too. We opted for a physically distanced visit, to be around people, even if we were ten feet apart. Grief can be so lonely in the best of moments. It is a challenge to be with people you love at a distant, but as a bereaved family, we have lots of practice - we have loved you our whole life and the distance between us couldn't be farther.

Today we once again honoured your short life and the impact of living 18 years with and without you. That conversation around the kitchen island a few days ago highlighted the reality that the reason for you has so many folds in the fabric of our lives. Not the same as a reason for why you died, but rather, everyone around our table are who they are, in some small part because you existed.

Happy 18th Birthday Flynn, with and without you.