We all walk around covered in these unique patchwork jackets of grief; they are a collection of memories of moments of precious gifts and painful regrets. We arrange them in our own way, cram them together to make them fit, to make them cover our fragile forms. In the beginning I was so consumed with preparing my own jacket that I didn’t look up long enough to appreciate the others. My youngest son Kenny who is 8 has such wonderful memories of his brother. He talks about him with such adoration that I would imagine his jacket to be covered in the memories of playing with his brother. The two of them swimming in the lake with the whitecaps and the big yellow boat, or dressed up like cowboys in their red hats playing catch in the yard. A colorful creation of what he holds precious. Kenny’s jacket is strikingly different from my daughter’s who is 13 now. She is a little darker pushing down the pain of her loss with so much mite that she has become a little Johnny Cash “the man in black” in her coat. I have discovered that its not that Madison's memories are any less beautiful than Kenny’s it just that she keeps them tightly woven on the inside of her dark, thick outer fabric. I’m not sure if this helps her feel like they belong only to her or if she likes them just a little closer to her heart. Either way no matter how we choose to patch it together and sew it up whether it’s a miss match or a colorful creation, whether we show it proudly or hide it, it is our own and we have found a way to be comfortable in the warmth of its significance.

I am spending a lot of time now with bloody palms and bruised kneecaps from stumbling around on my earthbound search for comfort. My mind knows, but my heart refuses to accept, the fact that my relief is no longer an earthbound treasure. I manage to crawl through my days somehow momentarily regaining my footing only for the slightest bump in the road to send me sailing back down on my face. My eyes desperately trying to find a sight that goes unseen. My heart screaming out words that go unheard and searching…searching for the comfort of my little boy with his toothy grin and corn colored hair, painfully longing just to hold him and feel, once again, complete.

Today the wind is blowing through with great force swirling and clacking the trees together knocking off the signs autumn has left behind. On the fence post in front of me the birds sit and sing a tune of “it’s coming! It’s coming!” Like little flowers girls before the bride they warn of spring’s arrival. I cant help but think that each passing day is an accomplishment in itself to face down and conquer, and though I want to rejoice in the new season each moment is a double edged sword…bringing me further from the last day I saw his face and at the same time closer to the next day I will.

Everyday the pain grows and manifests itself differently. I have been feeling so numb with it. I have the memories of J.T. swirling in my head at such a rapid rate lately, his smile remains in the forefront and I desperately want to touch his face. It seemed to start when it snowed last week. It hit early in the morning and Madie and Kenny were just waking up. Kenny rushed to get dressed and went outside all bundled up. He was just walking around looking up. I watched him for a while from the front window knowing that J.T. was heavy on his mind and I began to imagine J.T way up above him with pink rosy cheeks from the cold kneeling over a bucket of giant snowflakes sprinkling them down over us like sugar. I know he will never be far from us if we hold tightly to his precious memories but at the same time I know that it will never be enough and we will never be the same.

Walk with me through a jungle of carnage fear not for I will hold your hand. We will climb high atop this big red beast of anger for a unique vantage point as we travel throughout this tour. Here you will see the lives destroyed by this tragedy. Little people who were held so dear ripped from the arms of their parents. You will see the wandering faces of numbness all screaming the same questions “Why?” and “For what?” The destruction will lay thick beneath our feet and sadly it is added to daily. You cannot avoid it for to change it you must become aware. You must not only see with your eyes but with your heart and with each new reverberating beat we will march to right this wrong.