Birthday Boy
Thirteen years ago today, we threw a first birthday party for our blond, apple-cheeked boy. Three months later to the day, he would be dead, from a virulent and rare form of strep. One day he was sitting in my lap with a book, clapping his hands when we came to his favorite page. And within 48 hours he was gone. Thirteen years sounds like a long time, doesn’t it? It’s not. The therapists say losing a child is one of the most wretched things to experience. It topples the natural order of things—your children should bury you, not the other way around. It’s completely upending. Worse, it mixes an odd cocktail—one part furious anger and one part defeated vulnerability. Shake it. Shoot it. It stings all the way. You gradually learn to stomach it, to cocoon it someplace inside, because it’s dangerous and scary to walk around like that. […]