It doesn’t get any easier with time. Right now, it’s harder. The time since I last saw Kade is so huge. It’s this abysmal, black hole that has no bottom or top. It’s the ginormous void that is desperate to be filled. The knowledge that it never will be is overwhelming.

I know a lot about PTSD now. I understand the enormity of it. The chaos of it. If I was standing in front of you, I’d look the same. Maybe a little tired, a little sad. Underneath the surface, it’s midnight and I’m screaming.

I can say I ‘miss’ my child but that seems so empty. That word doesn’t encompass the devastating yearning for just a glimpse of him. Just a momentary glance as he walks by. I watch all the videos I have of him and it feels so insignificant. Hearing him is Heaven and Hell. I can’t stop looking at him, it’s all I have left.

I have a tote of Kade’s clothes. Things that no one chose when we were taking treasures. I went out there this morning knowing I’d be able to have the scent of him today. I rummaged through and found an old Northface jacket of his. I’m pretty sure it’s the first one he ever owned. It’s worn and pilling. It’s gone from being a discard to something precious. I carried it out of the barn where I have these things stored with the care of precious cargo. Once I got back in the house, I slipped it on and inhaled the fragrance that I know as ‘Kade’. It made me sob.

I’ve been holding on and holding it in. Not so well, but the effort is honest. I’m guarded and quiet. I like to be left alone. I need all of my energy and focus to not fall of this ledge. I make everyone nervous. My family watches me and they think I don’t notice. I do. I’m helpless to help them right now. I need all of my energy to flow in, not out .

I want to watch Jeff Nichols movies and listen to Lucero. Instead the house is silent except for the sound of the wind in the trees through the window. Yesterday I had a flock of geese in the back yard. They started off swimming by, then came up on the bank and drove my dogs insane. Birds. God always send birds to me when I’m drowning in this. I stood in the window and watched the ten or so, waddling around, pecking at the earth. Honking and hissing at each other, talking and taunting as we watch from a safe distance. I was lost for just a moment, totally at peace. Taking it all in and smiling just a bit. A brief respite. It sounds so insignificant, instead it’s a lifeline.

Tomorrow is the day that marks my explosion of change. The moment my heart shattered into an infinite amount of pieces. Broken is not the word to describe my heart, that word is too small. It’s a day that I dread and mark with loathing. How did we get here?

I want to write about Kade. I want to rejoice his life and remember everything he was. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to weather that storm. It’s seems so important and so devastating.

I lean of my Father through this. His love and grace make it possible for me to wade through all of this.

I miss my child. In despair and anguish, I cling to the things I have left. Picture, videos, stories, this Northface that still holds his scent after three years.

Say a prayer for me tonight. Pray God sends gifts and surprises to ease my pain these next few days. Thank you all who acknowledge my loss and embrace me with the care I need as I go through all of the motions and emotions of what happened to our family.