It’s January 6, 2014. Another calendar year without my son has begun. I haven’t posted anything because its been too hard to write anything for public dissemination.
I spent New Years Eve alone. It was my choice. I wanted to reflect on 2013 and contemplate 2014. It was not easy. I recalled many moments of total despair in 2013, along with moments of healing. Healing a broken heart is a slow process. I believe that a heart broken by the death of a child never truly heals. Scar tissue forms over the deep, jagged edges of my pain. A part of my heart is missing. It left the moment my child died and will never return. There is a hole which remains dark and empty, until we are reunited in Heaven.
I am especially sad today. My son, like me, was a lifelong Auburn fan. In fact, he was probably one of the most loyal, avid fans of all things Auburn. We both loved football. Tonight, Auburn will play in the Rose Bowl stadium in Pasadena, CA for the national championship. This comes after a dismal season in 2012, the year my son died, in his apartment in Auburn. In 2010, while Donald was a student at Auburn University, the football team had a phenomenal season. They went on to win the national championship for the first time since 1957. Donald wanted to go to the game. I refused to pay for it, telling him that if anyone went, it would be me because he would see Auburn play for another championship, but I would not. Actually, neither of us went to the game. Today, as I wait for tonight’s game, I ponder what I told Donald that year. I never imagined that I would be alive to see Auburn play for another championship and he would not. It is still impossible to grasp that my son, who would be 23 and living and working in Atlanta, GA, is not here to cheer on his beloved Tigers.
I’m sure many readers do not understand the fascination Southerners have with college football. I accept that. However, I’m sure that my readers can think of something similar in their lives. Some activity or place that your child enjoyed as much as you do.
I miss hearing his voice. I miss his texts saying War Eagle! I miss talking to him about everything, and today, I miss talking to him about one of his favorite things.
War Eagle Donald! Mom is going to be watching and cheering as loudly as if I were there.