Half a Million

Half a Million.  Five Hundred Thousand.  500,000

Seems like alot.  I guess it just depends what it is.  I guess it’s all relative.

But, for those that are counting, like me, it’s been 500,000 minutes since Mason left us.

I have thought about him nearly every one of those minutes.  Every day, at some point in time, I will have a memory lapse.  Not that I forgot about him, but that I forgot he was gone.

And then it hits me.  Hits me like I am re-living the time we got the phone call.  Re-Living the drive to the hospital.  Re-Living the time we spent at his side in the ER.  Re-Living closing his casket.  Re-Living lowering him into the ground.

Half a Million minutes.

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I’m Tired

I’m Tired………….

of the nightmares…..

of the depression……

of being angry……

of not being understood……

of being (feeling) ignored……

of others criticizing the way I handle MY grief……

of wishing I had done things differently……

of the guilt I carry……

of the self-imposed pressure I create……

of looking at my son’s name on a headstone……

of walking past his empty room……

of hurting……

of being tired……