If you are a fan of The Phantom of the Opera, you know the title of this blog is a lyric from a very beautiful song. Tonight, that lyric speaks volumes to me. As the week winds down, my heart grows heavier with each passing day as I face the 4th anniversary of my son Michael's death. You can understand why I hate November 6.
It's not as though Michael is far from my thoughts or heart any other day or week, but during the week leading up to the 6th I find him even more present than usual. I find myself wondering what he would look like today at 24. Would he have achieved his goal of being taller than his eldest brother Chris? Would he be able to grow a full beard with no blank spaces unlike his brother Andrew? Would he be married? Would he be creating stunningly beautiful and frighteningly fast cars as he always dreamed? Lots of questions never to be answered.
I'm certainly not the first mom to lose a child, and sadly I won't be the last. And although I was told the hurt would get better with time, it doesn't. My heart aches to hear his laugh, which I cannot pull from my memory. I would give anything to see him with his brothers once again, laughing or playing cards or puffing on a cigar on the deck as they did so often. To feel his hug again would be paradise and worth all that I own. But my arms are empty and the silence that was once his voice is deafening to me. And even though it's been 4 years, that day and the week leading up to it still knocks me sideways. My grief doesn't mean I loved Michael more than Chris and Andy, or somehow lessens their importance to me, it simply means there is a hole in my heart that cannot be filled.
So this week, my family and dearest friends have remembered that it's a tough week for me and have offered support at every turn. I am so grateful for that love. I cannot express how much it means to me. My dear, dear friend Anita wrote this to me after we exchanged messages and I dumped my sadness and fears on her, "If you are too scared to look ahead, and too sad to look backward, then look to your side and you will find me there." How do you say thank you for or repay friendship and love like that? She has endured her own losses again and again and yet, she is there for me asking nothing and offering everything.
So the week will come to an end. The 6th will roll around as it does every year. My boys will be here and they will let me cling to them and I will cry and we will share stories of our Michael. And with Sunday a new year will start again. In December, we will welcome a new life to our family as Sarah and Andrew give us a new Michael. And as I welcome this precious new boy, this new Michael, my heart will release just a bit of the pain of the loss of my Michael. And that is good. I wish I could give it all away, but that's just not possible. He was my child, my baby, 1/3 of my heart and I will forever find myself wishing he was somehow here again. Written with love for my son, Michael Thomas Herbert, April 29, 1986 - November 6, 2006.
