I’ve said in previous posts that there are certain dates that are more difficult for the griever. They come upon you in a wave like crash. You do not have to look at a calendar, your body feels it before it arrives. Today, is one of those days as a birth date is approaching. In creating this blog, I wrote “notes” and outlines of events that occurred over time. I was somehow reminded a little while ago of this particular event which took place about three years ago on another one of “those” days. I have to assume that the nudge means it was time to share it.
February – it is the month he left us. The 18th to be exact. No time is ever easy but ask any grieving parent and they will tell you that this date, the anniversary, is tougher than any other day. Nearly four years have passed now since that awful day in 2014. As terrible as this particular day began however, Brian somehow managed a beautiful twist at its end, letting me know what hope lies behind it all – that he is never really far away from my thoughts or my emotions as I cope with them.
Driving through town I was hit out of the clear blue with missing him. A missing so brutal that it brought me to immediate tears – the ugly cry. The one where you lose the ability to catch your breath, sob, get puffy eyed, runny nosed, just let me get home kind of crying.
As it turned out, we had plans for the evening. It was date night Saturday and we were heading to our favorite restaurant in a couple of hours. With this sudden wave, I felt beaten down and tired, not really wanting to go. I pushed myself into warrior mode and rallied trying to salvage at least part of the day. We called in reinforcement, my cousin Keith, and met him there as he is often our fun side kick for the evening. Upon arrival, the bar was full – the tables actually empty but holding “reserved” signs on each of them. We managed 3 seats at the end. Enjoying cocktails and each other, I noticed first a friend at the end and the attorney who handled Brian’s estate. Seriously? Not a wonderful reminder on such a date but there it was, a piece of him in the midst of my evening.
As my husband got up to excuse himself for a moment, a couple came in to my left grabbing the last remaining spot at the bar. As there was only one bar stool, the gentleman seated his companion and stood behind her awaiting the server. We made a joke about the empty tables and how we’d have to have a talk with our friend who owned the place, etc. Upon my husband’s return, the recognition between he and the gentleman was made. They were business acquaintances from years ago.
After lots of catching up, the conversation turned to an old antebellum home my husband owned with his former wife back in his late twenties. They discussed the work done on it, who owned it now, etc. The conversation turned to the fact that the home was “haunted” and those stories were told. My husband explained what his ex wife and children had seen, as well as what he had seen and felt, his own visual experiences being a flash of light that you could follow across the room similar in nature to the television show “The Flash.”
At the moment that came up, I had to stop myself from telling them how that had happened to him again several times accompanied by the same feeling after Brian’s passing. I sat to myself silently recalling all the times we shared “what I saw last night” stories and were dumfounded as they were always on the same night. Who would really understand that anyway?
So the conversations continued as did the laughing about the home. Somewhere in it however, I was surprised when the gentleman states that he believed it all completely. With an air of complete seriousness in all the frivolity, he went on to simply state, “I lost my son 18 years ago in an automobile accident and I saw him sitting once by my wife on her side of the bed.”
I had to catch my breath for a split second but could only say, “me too,” as our souls connected in that instant.
The note comparing began. My son is Brian, his son is Ryan. Both young men died in an automobile accident at the age of 20 years old. They decided at the last minute to go out that evening. Ryan’s dad had had a crappy day too. There was one chair available at the bar when they arrived – they thought there were two because my husband was in the restroom so they became a part of our evening.
There was first, no doubt that Brian was telling me, I hear you mom and I am with you. I also believe that he found Ryan and they orchestrated this little dinner party for two grieving parents to find solace and peace. There was so much love in the air that Keith made the comment, “I feel honored to be witness to this.” We drank a toast to our sons, Brian and Ryan, our unseen dinner attendees and I suppose our hosts when you think about it.
Thank you for sharing. Beautiful story.