Wednesday, June 13, 2012

If I can get through this

Here's my official song these days. This Friday will be four weeks since my son had his seizure. Friday will mark four weeks since, since, since everything.

This is my afterlife, the life after. This is our life beyond, for my family, and for those around us who were affected by my son's passing.

This is that life you imagine when someone says, "I can't imagine life without you."

Only we don't have to imagine, do we?

I keep singing this song. Some of the lyrics don't make a damned bit of sense, but they ring true, sort of like Pearl Jam's Yellow Ledbetter. You hear what you want to hear, what you need to hear.

In any case, I am making progress on my current WiP. I have written almost 10kw since last week. They have been hard words, and I don't know if they are flat or vibrant, but they are on paper, by God, at least in the electrical metaphorical sense of "being on paper."

I am making forward progress. I am moving upward, up up up, always up.

And if I can get through this, I can get through anything, by God.

I mean, what have I to fear when my greatest fear is passed?

Answer: Not a goddamned thing. I face God's own pain, the one He touts as His greatest gift to mankind, and I say: Hey God, my son was only eighteen months old. Yours was a middle-aged man who everyone thought was a lunatic. You got yours back after three short days, but mine isn't coming back, not by my hand, at least.

So what else you got, Old Man? Bring it. Whatever fear I had, left with my son's last breath.

Wishing you all the best. Your prayers and heartfelt thoughts are physical.

- Eric

Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications


Sarah Ahiers said...

This was a beautiful post. You and your family haven't left my thoughts over these last few weeks and i'll continue to think of you and hope for peace in your lives

T. Powell Coltrin said...

There IS nothing worse and nothing I can say to make anything better.Nothing.

I haven't been here since your loss. I'm am so sorry it happened. Sometimes "forward progress" for me anyway (in the past) is getting out of bed. If that's all that is expected of me, then, that is all I will give.

Take care

DavinKwriter said...

We have to keep going don't we brother? I've learned that these days, since suffering a heavy loss myself, my writing is more clear, more pure, more honest. You sound like you are going to be just fine, stronger ... more You. Hang in there.

Phoenix said...

Since the only thing I've found that works for grief is just sitting with someone (none of that "everything happens for a reason" bullshit for me, thanks), just imagine that if we lived in the same state and happened to be neighbors I'd come and sit on your porch (if you have one) and keep you company in the silence.

I'm so very, very sorry, Eric. Words don't do events like this justice.

Keeping you and yours in my thoughts.

Jemi Fraser said...

Keep stepping forward. Keep remembering the joy and the beauty. And the love. Always remember the love. *hugs*

Roland D. Yeomans said...

Teresa is right. Nothing I say will make things better. I know your wife is hurting, too. You still have her love.

How many other children do you have? I know you were writing a book with them, weren't you? They must be grieved with the loss of their brother, too.

There are no easy answers. Sometimes no answers, just one foot after another in the dark.

My heart is with you ... which does not lighten your pain I know. Roland

dolorah said...

My heart goes with you and your family Eric.


Wendy Tyler Ryan said...

I agree with Phoenix, the two phrases I think I hate most in our language are: Everything happens for a reason AND It could be worse.

They should be stricken from our language. What possible reason could there be for an innocent to die? And, NO, it could not be worse.

I also agree with Teresa. If you managed to put your foot off the bed, dress and egage the world in some small way, you will make it. Remember, one foot at a time off the bed - the rest will follow.

Take care, Eric.


Lola Sharp said...

OMG, Eric. I haven't been online for over a month...I had no idea. My heart just broke for you. I AM SO DAMN SORRY. I can't even... dude, I am so sorry. *hugs* to you and your family.

Wine and Words said...

"It's like a storm
That cuts a path
It breaks your will
It feels like that...
I will stand by you
I will help you through
When you've done all you can do..."

- Rascal Flatts

Feels like that Eric. There is no way out but through. God can take our fists raised in helpless indignation. We can scream it. "Why?"

There are still no words of comfort to speak that are worthy in your hearing, but I think of your family often and pray for that forward movement you are finding. It's hard to push on when those little hands are in the past. I wish life were fair. But everyone's idea of fair is different, so that's a pipe dream. I wish you still had your son. I wish I wish. Glad your are writing Eric.


Jai Joshi said...

Eric, I'm only just catching up on things and I can't believe the news. I'm so sorry. I just want to say that my thoughts and best wishes are with you and your family.