I’m A Big Boy Now

In the beginning I would visit Aaron’s grave site at least once a week, sometimes more. I would always go alone, I would always cry, I would always cry uncontrollably. Words were at a premium but my tears told the story. If he was listening he got the point.

I only stayed long enough to let him know I was there, that I was hurting and I was mad at him for leaving us so suddenly without warning. It wasn’t fair to me, his mother, his brothers and sisters and his nieces and nephews.

I don’t know if he was still hanging around but I had read that sometimes the spirit of the deceased would stay for a while, sometimes watching the aftermath of their actions or perhaps they even desired to do so before entering the after world.

I had a photo of Aaron put on his headstone so we could always have a face to face on our visits.

He never talked back ,not that I expected it although an explanation would have been good. So many questions left unanswered. But I did make sure  at least one question was asked on every visit.


Only he knew the answer to that one and he wasn’t talking. Not to me anyway.

My visits would sometimes last no more than three or four minutes, rarely longer and usually shorter. Long enough to let my emotions get away with me.  Where better than a well maintained cemetery where a father can cry publicly and get away with it.

As time wore on and my grief was somewhat under control, I would test my resolve by seeing how long I could be by his grave side looking at his picture before I fell apart. Two seconds were my shortest, unless you count falling apart from the car to the headstone. I don’t count that, its like points being taken away before you get into the boxing ring.

Ten seconds were about the longest I could last.

Months go by and I am still visiting at least once a week without fail. My visits become more of a personal test. I would talk myself up and say, “today, I don’t cry, today I am a big boy”. The harder I tried the more I cried. I have always been an emotional person but this was getting ridiculous although I had no intention of stopping my visits or trying to hold back my emotions.

On one visit, maybe 3 or 4 months after his death, no sooner had I stepped out of the car, that I knew something was different.  As I walked toward his grave a peace came over me I hadn’t felt in years. I knew immediately what it was. Aaron was gone, he was no longer with us or he was no longer tormenting me at his grave.

To this day I don’t know if Aaron let go and made his peace or I let him go.

I was so happy and relieved. I smiled, I laughed, I waved goodbye and of course I cried. But these tears were now tears of joy.

The desire to visit Aaron’s grave after that day vanished. I gave it no more thought. Just like that.

It was months before I visited again. Yes, I cried. It would not have been the same if I hadn’t but the visits became increasingly farther apart each time.

About six months ago I stopped by for a short visit. I wanted to let him know that I am no longer trying to survive his death, that I had become a survivor.

Sitting in the car preparing to go home I smiled. I hadn’t shed a tear.  I laughed out loud.

I whispered…”I’m a big boy now”…well, most of the time.





6 responses

  1. Sammy,

    “……I am no longer trying to survive his death, that I had become a survivor.”

    I read your words and wonder how long it will be, if ever, that I feel “I had become a survivor.” I’m one strong woman, but being knocked to my knees by Ben’s death has left me wondering if I’ll ever find the reserve of strength that I have always had, to feel as if I have “survived” his death, and am not just biding my time….until I feel like I am a survivor or until my own life is over.

    I am so sorry about your son Aaron.

    Thanks for sharing, for putting the thought of surviving into my head.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi Susan,

      I can feel your pain, I really can. Yes, I promise you, the day will come when you will stop biding time and “know” you are a survivor. When you do, you have a peace about you that will help you to look back through your journey and actually appreciate all that you had gone through. You will still ache for your son Ben, you will never stop remembering but you will do it with a new outlook on life. For now?….Its one day at a time. There are no shortcuts to the light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you Susan for taking the time to read my story and I am so happy that even a sentence or two give you the motivation to become a “Survivor”.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. “To this day I don’t know if Aaron let go and made his peace or I let him go.”

    Sammy, there was a time I would have read about “suicide” – I read your words and I read about love. Love is universal. Loss is universal. Pain and love and loss and surviving …. Your words are universal.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Big hug right back at ya…You got it right.Love is universal. For now this is the best way I know how to share it. I thank my Aaron for that now. Bless you.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I didn’t lose my mom to suicide. But I lost her when I was young. So much of what you have described is what I went through…anger, deep sadness, that journey to the point when you can feel something different…the gaps between those “visits”…everything. I agree with the comments above…when I read your blog, I read about love more than suicide. I know you know, but gonna say it again, I am obsessed with your blog. And like I said before, you’re helping so many survivors, and so is Aaron. It is true that even at our lowest, we can help someone else if only we let ourselves.


  4. Thanks for your comments Henri, they mean more than you realize. We have got to help each other make this world a better place to live.

    I’m really sorry to hear about your mom. It was my greatest fear growing up, losing my mom and/or dad. Probably two of the greatest loses in life, losing a parent when your young and losing a child.

    Little did I know when I lost Aaron that his death would make me a better person and that it would help me to help others.

    Bless you Henri, you seem to have such a big heart. A mature heart……


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: