My Little Shadow

This just kinda came to me as I drove in to work this morning.  Thought I would write it down and share it with others.  It’s probably a work in progress, so I may add more later.

My little Man, My little Shadow

My how quickly things can change

Everything is going well, nothing too strange

Then the phone rings, we need to go

You are my little man, my little shadow.

I spent many nights in the bottom of the bottle

Looking for you in there left me lonely and hollow

I knew that the bottle was no way to go

You were my little man, my little shadow.

There are so many things we didn’t get to do

So many plans I had laid out for you

When you left us, it was a heavy blow

You were my little man, my little shadow.

I wish your little sister could have really known you

We’ll tell her everything, all the funny things you used to do

Oh Mason, how we miss you so

You were my little man, my little shadow.

Sometimes I dream you are calling out to me

I can’t find you, no matter how hard I seek

I wish you could come down, just to say ‘hello’

You are my little man, my little shadow.


My heart is broke, never to fully heal

I am scarred for life, the hurt is very real

I try to hide the pain, don’t let it show

But you were my little man, my little shadow.


Rock Bottom

Not there yet.

It appears that I have a ways to go to get there.  Scary thought.

Most of the other blogs and books I have read concerning grief state that the second year is the bad year.  The first year, your mostly in shock and disbelief.  They also say that there is no real time-table on how/when you should grieve.  Great.

I wrote about it before, but I’ll say it again.  I seriously fucked up coming back to work so soon after Mason passed.  Seven days after he died and 2 days after his funeral, I was back at work.  What else was I to do?  I figured work would keep me plenty busy and I could just immerse myself in that instead of my grief.  So, for the next 40 days or so, I worked.  Brandi stayed with family and I stayed at the camper.  Alone.  So, I worked during the day and drank myself to oblivion at night.

I’m not the smartest man in the world, but I did realize that I was going down a path that could lead to a lot more damage.  So, I toned it down.  I still have the occasional drink, but they are few and far between.  I’m not going to say that it is handled, but it is a lot more under control.

The other issue I have been dealing with is work itself.  I have found that I just about despise this place.  Don’t get me wrong, the people are great.  It’s a good job.  But coming back here so soon when I really didn’t want to be here has left me with a feeling of resentment.  Also, I find that I can’t concentrate on things anymore.  My memory is just about completely shot.  If I don’t write it down, I probably won’t remember it.  I can’t perform like I used to.  Bigger problem is that I don’t care.

It would be nice to just pick up and go start again somewhere new.  But, I’m a one-trick pony.  This is the only thing I know how to do.  I could take a lesser job, but that wouldn’t be fair to the family.  I need to provide for Brandi & Isabella the best that I can.  They both deserve way better.  I’ll do the best for them as I can.  Hopefully, that will be enough.

I see that things are going down hill.  I have found myself getting more and more aggravated with people in general.  Those that knew me before know that I was a pretty easy going guy.  I never got wound up about anything.  That guy is not here anymore.  I hope that I will be able to maintain some sort of normalcy through this whole process.

The next year or two will be extremely difficult.  I am thankful for my family and friends.  I hope that none of you ever have this experience.  I am extremely thankful for Brandi and Isabella being here.  If not for my two girls, who knows where I would be.


I can’t get past it.  Probably never will.

In my head, I know that it’s bullshit.

In my heart, I feel like I failed Mason.  I did not protect him.  The only job I had to do, the only thing I had to do for Mason was protect him.  I failed.  It’s really that simple.  He died.  Other kids are still alive.  Other dads still have their kids.  They are protecting them.  My son is dead.  I failed him and he is gone.  Forever.

How the fuck am I supposed to live with myself?

I’m also dealing with some horrific thoughts as well.  Every time I close my eyes here lately, I think about my poor boy in the casket, in the ground, rotting.  I can see him.  I can see the……  Nevermind.

I’m hurting.  The day can’t come fast enough that I can rest next to him.

And yet, I NEED to be here for Isabella.  I WANT to be here for Isabella.  I WILL be here for Isabella.

Not My Will

We ordered Mason’s cemetery marker the other day.  Brandi and I will have a spot on the marker that we can put a short note or something.

I’m going with:  “Not my will, but Thine be done”  Obviously, we didn’t want this to happen.  We had plans.  Burying Mason wasn’t in those plans.  Evidently, it was in the Lords plans to take him home.  I’m glad I didn’t know, but I am full of regret for the things we never got to do.

I regret that I wasted alot of time.  I always thought that there would be a tomorrow.  There would always be a “next weekend”.  There would always be a “next year”.  There would always be a “next time”.

Well, I can tell you for sure, there won’t always be a “next”.  It can happen so very suddenly.

“Not my will, but Thine be done.”  It has to be the Lords will.  I sure hope when I get to heaven that He can explain this one to me.