What New Tires Can Do
Grief, like the thump of a heartbeat, is always with me. Sometimes in the background, quietly powering the parts of me that lie beneath the surface:
he's gone, he's gone, he's gone
Sometimes, in ways that I don't expect, it feels as though I've run a marathon and the grief, like that quickened heartbeat, suddenly becomes a deafening roar, the only thing I can hear:
HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE
Four years ago, on a hot summer day, I sat in the service station and waited for my tires to be changed. On this day when I should have been home bonding with my newborn son, I sat in the service station and got new tires. I cried. I cried all of the time then. It was wrong to go about this mundane task as if new tires meant anything at all in the face of the loss of a son. For months on end, the pounding was the only thing I could hear.
HE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONE
I went to the service station just the other day. A regular service, just maintenance. It was in the back of my mind, though, quietly fueling my thoughts. I hoped they wouldn't mention it. I hoped that I could just wait until I was ready to address it myself. I could hear the quiet beating.
he's gone, he's gone, he's gone
The service man came. The service man told me what I didn't want to hear. The service man suggested that I needed to get new tires. And there it was, that deafening roar, thrumming in my ears:
HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE
The days of life have worn down the time between now and the birth of my baby boy. Time has eroded minutes and hours and years and, as they fly by, my son is further and further from my reach. So much time has gone by that my tires, those new tires over which I cried alone on that summer day, are all worn down.
He's gone.
He's gone.
he's gone, he's gone, he's gone
Sometimes, in ways that I don't expect, it feels as though I've run a marathon and the grief, like that quickened heartbeat, suddenly becomes a deafening roar, the only thing I can hear:
HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE
Four years ago, on a hot summer day, I sat in the service station and waited for my tires to be changed. On this day when I should have been home bonding with my newborn son, I sat in the service station and got new tires. I cried. I cried all of the time then. It was wrong to go about this mundane task as if new tires meant anything at all in the face of the loss of a son. For months on end, the pounding was the only thing I could hear.
HE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONEHE'SGONE
I went to the service station just the other day. A regular service, just maintenance. It was in the back of my mind, though, quietly fueling my thoughts. I hoped they wouldn't mention it. I hoped that I could just wait until I was ready to address it myself. I could hear the quiet beating.
he's gone, he's gone, he's gone
The service man came. The service man told me what I didn't want to hear. The service man suggested that I needed to get new tires. And there it was, that deafening roar, thrumming in my ears:
HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE, HE'S GONE
The days of life have worn down the time between now and the birth of my baby boy. Time has eroded minutes and hours and years and, as they fly by, my son is further and further from my reach. So much time has gone by that my tires, those new tires over which I cried alone on that summer day, are all worn down.
He's gone.
He's gone.
Feel for you.
ReplyDeleteHow poignant, I'm so very sorry :(
ReplyDeleteHugs,
~Jo
Oh, hugs! I'm so sorry, dear.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could give you a hug. I completely understand how the tires bring up the loss. All things become a measurement of the loss and the passing of time. The year my brother died New Year's Eve was like this for me. I hung onto every minute of that day willing it to stay. The thought of living in a year he would never see was just too painful to me. Hoping you find some peace.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteThis is so heartbreaking. *hugs*
ReplyDeleteSo sad, yet so beautifully written. Take care.
ReplyDeleteOh, Mel. I'm so very sorry for you. I miscarried, and it was awful. I can only imagine how you feel.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could do something more than just offer you my love and support. I'm here.
I am very sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteYour pain is so raw and I am sorry for it.
ReplyDelete