The sadness seems to come and go, in cycles at least a week at a time. A few weeks ago was a very difficult time for me. I was completely crushed by the fact that Henry had never chased and caught fireflies. Every time I saw one all of the things that he never got to do started to line up, one after another after another until I forced myself to break the train of thought.
There's a lot he never got to do.
For the Fourth of July, we went to watch our local fireworks display. As the four of us waited for the sky to darken, the fireflies began their dance.
I remembered that Henry had seen fireworks, twice. We had been to our minor league baseball stadium the summer before his diagnosis, and he watched them then. He really loved them. And, when we were on his Wish trip to Disney we watched them one night. He liked them briefly, but wasn't feeling well and on so many medications that he didn't remember it later. But I had a real sense of calm that he had seen them.
I thought a lot about that as we watched the fireworks that night. I can't measure every event in my life on the measuring stick of whether or not Henry got to. Clearly the stick is too short.
And isn't it for all of us? Even in a full, blessed life in these modern times and with modern amenities, there is so much that life has to offer, we can never do all we want to do.
I keep coming back to this, and wanting to write about it, but struggling with how.
The desire for what isn't can torture. The acceptance of what is soothes. There is pain, and grief, and hurt, along with the wonderful memories I have of him. But I don't need to add to it.