January 8, 2014

Apathy has set in. Yesterday was flat and listless, today bodes to be more of the same. I have to force myself to do the simplest of tasks, make a cup of tea, cut up an orange. I know in my head this will pass too, but for now, to my heart it all seems so pointless. All of you have offered so many wonderful and touching words of encouragement, consolation, hope and cheer. For that we are deeply grateful. It is helping, this is just a phase.

Today was a little better. It seemed a bit less bleak. The clouds lifted in the afternoon, and the thin, cold winter sunlight streaked across the world. We took my brother-in-law to the airport, did a tiny bit of shopping and had dinner with Terry’s sisters and mother. I managed to hold the sadness at bay most of the day until I went out this evening and saw the brightest star glittering in the eastern sky. The star I have given everyone to remind them of Jake. Sirius. Easy to find even in the bright city-lit sky. A few tears for what might have been and what will never be. They dried cold upon my cheeks, and I went inside to feel the warmth of family. Tomorrow will be better still. Good night all, sweet friends.

January 9

Okay. today was a little better for me. We went to the Hammer museum and looked at some wonderful paintings. But the pleasure was tinged with longing. “Jake would dig this”, I thought as I admired a Van Gogh or the pretty painting of the French seashore. Then onto a knish quest along Pico Boulevard in the “hood”. Looking for the perfect square New York street style knish. Not to be found. Had some pretty good Brooklyn pizza and again, as we critiqued it, “Jake should be here to help us dissect this”. “He would love this salami.” “Would have something to say about the bourekas.” It was good to get out, to walk around, shop from store to store, but always, lurking in the shadows is that pool of melancholy. And sometimes, it just hits me like a sledgehammer and brings me to my knees.

Originally posted on Facebook January 9, 2014

About edcol52

The Infinite Fountain of Love and Loss flows unceasingly into the pool of memory and sorrow. I created this blog in response to the most dreadful tragedy every parent fears, the death of a child, our 24 year old son, Jake. We are now on an unimagined journey along this road of grief and recovery. If you can find some comfort within these pages, than I will have succeeded in some small measure.
This entry was posted in Coping, Grief, Jake's Spirit, Memory, Past Facebook Post, Sadness, Tragedy and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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