To Call Witness

I am a strong believer in speaking our truth, in sharing our journey and of bearing witness to our experiences.As a writer I get the opportunity to fulfill this in fiction, in the crafting of story and character and for that I am truly grateful. On this platform I share in other ways and often feel the need as I sit to write to give voice to the stirrings of my heart. As this week begins and I am given another beautiful Sunday morning to ponder my thoughts I am mindful of the approaching anniversary. The date April 18th resounds so loudly in my being. I remember other years that date boring a hole in my pain. I would hear it weeks before as something would always be advertised as taking place on April 18th.I would see it on signs and TV ads and each time I would feel the jab.The torture of that has subsided somewhat but I am always mindful of the date as it approaches. This year it seems huge in the fact it will be the twentieth anniversary. The same inner reminders like April sunshine, melting snow the smell of the air,and seasonal anticipation are present this year but the glaring part is that we have now been without Zac for as long as we had him. I know the next few days will hold so many recollections and I have never shied away from processing them.Each memory however difficult is a treasure I hold on to just as each memory of his twenty years on earth are mine to keep. But the reality is having put in twenty years does not lessen the pain of it one little bit. I do not state this looking for pity or understanding I simply say it to bear witness to what is the reality of living with loss. Living with loss is something we are all called to do and escaping it is not possible . Not talking about it is not a remedy for the hurt . And talking about it does not make it linger as it never leaves. It settles somewhat as most pain does. We become used to it ,find a way to survive it but calling witness to the truth of it is not a selfish act but an honest one. Thursday morning the sun will rise and Thursday evening the sun will set. When the dawn of the first day of the twenty first year comes I will carry on, no weaker , no stronger but just as determined to bear witness to the love I have for my first born son and the sorrow that came the moment I lost him.