The Quiet

The Quiet
We are surrounded by the quiet. Where once was a young man's voice of happiness and joy and at times of pain...there is now only the quiet. 

I let the six month anniversary of his death pass without a word because I want others to feel how it feels- the quiet. 

What I wouldn't give to hear his sounds in the night. The sounds of the morning. The sounds of his living in each of our days. What I wouldn't give to sit back and watch his ingenious ways to flood a bathroom, make a giant mess eating popcorn and chips- oh the sound of his crunching of chips, how I miss thee!

Instead we have the quiet. 

Six months ago we lost him. A year ago his breathing difficulties began, as he silently marched toward his death without a soul knowing for months. While the depth of his issues was unknown, we were hearing him loud and clear as his pain screams began. We just didn't understand. We tried to protect him. To understand. To make doctors understand. And through it all, we made sure he was living the most epic life possible. 

I never knew why my drive to give him such a life was so high- I just had the constant gnawing, the constant feeling that I needed him to live an epic life. We wouldn't hide away from the world out of fear. Instead we would teach- teach him the feel of the wind upon his face during a hike, 

the splash of mountain water from a waterfall, 

the taste of every French fry his heart desired,  

 

the smell of his favorite sugar cookies whenever he wanted and make sure he experienced everything he ever wanted and more. We made sure the world wasn't scary a place for him by taking him into the world and helping him understand it and live within it. We made sure our boy had a voice so that he could navigate this world and tell the world his story. 

Even in his last days he was learning- to go down to the snack bar at the hospital, pick out his chips, scan it, swipe a debit card and go! He was so thrilled to be independent. 

And now...now it's the quiet. The teaching is done. The joy and happiness has left us. Living an epic life came to a screeching halt.  

Six months has passed and we remain broken, heart broken, soul-torn. The waves of grief are unending and we do our best to just remain above the surface, constantly fighting the urge to let it take us under.

Six months has passed and we still are not used to the quiet. 

Six months has passed and we would give anything to hear the sound of his voice, the feel of his kisses/licks, his nighttime snuggles, his love of all things French fries and pizza and his incredibly brave and joyous take on life. 

Kreed taught us all to truly live, even in his last days. He will forever be the bravest person I will ever meet in this world. When the grief waves come crashing down and sends us spiraling down with the under tow...it is those times I remember our purpose now on this earth- ensuring Kreed's legacy lives on and his life continues to inspire others to find their voice. The only way I can deal with his death is making sure his life had meaning- that he continues to show others how to use their voice and live a no limits life.  

But what I will never get used to is the quiet. This six month anniversary came quietly. Snuck up on me and overwhelmed me. So I remained quiet. Unable to know what to think or feel. But here we are. Six months passed. Our sadness has only grown and the sadness deepened. 

And we continue to live with the quiet, longing for him.