As today is the eve of the year and a half mark since Chaz has been gone, I have the desire to write a little something.
As I look back at my life it is obvious to me, if to no one else, that I am a very selfish person when it comes to sentimental items and traditions. This has never been truer than it was during the year after Chaz passed away. There were so many things that I/we held on to that connected us to the time he was here. For example, we had a couple of Eddie Bauer fold up chairs that we carried in the van that were beaten up very badly during the accident. Even though they would not hold anyone if they tried to set on them, I felt the need to keep them because they were with us in the accident and in someway by keeping them I felt that it would help me remember. Another example would be the decorations we decorated Chaz’s grave with the first memorial day. I saved them because they were used to help celebrate Chaz’s life when he was gone. Every piece of clothing, every piece of paper, and every card that talked about Chaz are in the safe room. These are just a few things to mention.
So what am I getting at? Beginning with and including the loss of Chaz I have had so many things that I have had to give up reluctantly, if not by my own actions but by the events that I have no control over. I have truly had to learn to let go. One of the big ones was when we found out we were expecting our third child. I had to let go of the fact that Chaz was not going to be the baby of the family anymore, even though he will be. Confusing I know. Another big one was going to the gravesite after memorial day to find that the decorations that I had saved had been thrown away. The decision to go ahead and throw away the Eddie Bauer chairs was not an easy one (even though I did keep the back fabric piece that hangs in my garage now).
So I still haven’t stated what I am getting at have I? What I am discovering is that beyond having to give up Chaz physically, I have had to continue to give up other things in my life connected to Chaz in order to move on. As badly as I would like to sometimes go back and feel the same pain for losing him that I did last summer I know that by allowing myself to do that it will not help me to continue to progress. So each time one of the plants dies that was given to us for Chaz’s funeral, it hurts so much less. Each time we go through the intersection I am less scared (even though I haven’t yet driven a left turn through it, but someday will). Each time I am reminded that he should be here and he isn’t, it does not end my day. I know that things will continue to progress and there are bound to be moments, but I have made a decision that I am not going to let it wreck me and take away my progression as a husband, dad, friend, teacher or coach.