One more anniversary...fifteen years has passed, and yet, it still feels like yesterday. I'm angry! I'm down right pissed off! I can't stop weeping and feeling so empty! It's normal, it really is; grief never leaves us, it becomes a part of our lives. The same questions pop up: "Why did this happen?" "How could he have been so stupid to get in that car with his drunk buddies?" "Why did everyone else make it out alive?" "Why did his death cause an entire family to lose ground and fall apart and away from one another?" I can still hear the phone ringing--ringing. I can feel the urgency of my eldest son pounding on the door! I get that emotional adrenaline, and want to run--just run away from the nightmare! It did not happen! It's still just a bad dream! Oh god, why can't I wake up and just know it was all not true?

I feel his pulse, his heartbeat; slower and slower--I felt his life slip away, and go... I was prepared though, while driving to Colorado, I felt a grasp at my heart, as if an infant was clutching my breast...the clutch was strong, oh so strong-- and then, just as quick as it grabbed me, it slipped away. I really knew at that moment, that what I was going to do there was say good-bye. I was strong, I recall that feeling of utter calmness, of strength and love for my remaining babies. I stood there watching as each one of them dealt with the grieving process; different ways and yet all the same time. It was eerie. One punching the hospital walls, some sobbing, one in denial, and one...just so quiet. One was far away, and oh how I wish she was there with us too. We made the decision to take him off life support-- it was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life...ever. This scene from Steel Magnolias sums it all up.

I find it amusing. Men are supposed to be made out of steel or something. I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand. There was no noise, no tremble, just peace. Oh god. I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life.

I miss you terribly Robert David Baker, we all do! mom