Long Emotional Days Part 1

I am continually surprised at how I inaccurately assume where I am at in the mourning process. It seems that usually when I state it is getting easier the next day or hour it becomes much more difficult. Mourning the loss of your child has many layers that are not readily apparent. Some days I assume it will be a terrible day and then I am proven wrong and it is just fine. Other days that I think will feel great are horrible. Take the last couple days... Yesterday, I decided to stop by Childrens Hospital as I had not been there since Jake died. I anticipated that it would be a very difficult thing to do as most of my previous visits were with Jake while he was alive. I went however into the building and found myself doing very well. I was stopped several times by doctors, nurses and other staff members who had helped during the course of his disease. Everyone gave me hugs and told me how much Jake meant to them and how his life brought so much joy and laughter to their day. I felt that Jake was still with me (which I suppose is possible because before I got out of the car I said "Jake, you better be right by my side during this!") The visit went well including a session with the staff psychologist as we reminisced and talked about Jake. After the session, I had a final lunch meal at the cafeteria where I had gone so many times in the last few years when Jake was in treatment. It was odd to know that this would probably be my last meal at that location. I no longer have children under the age of 18. Like the last day of school I looked back on the last two years with some fondness, lots of sadness and still a sense of disbelief of what we actually went through in the last two years. Looking around the cafeteria and the receptionist areas I saw some parents that were just starting treatment for their sick child and felt sorry for the long road that was just about to begin for them.
My last stop for the day was the San Diego Hyperbaric facility to return a chair I had borrowed to assist in helping Jake get around. This journey was very sad as I walked into the office for the first time without Jake. The size of the office was of course much smaller than the hospital and as I walked out the door for the last time I paused by my car to look up at the sky and once again ponder the idea that this was all real and actually happening.