Saturday, September 14, 2013
Nine months ago today, Noah was violently taken from us. Time has gone full circle, abolishing the future: nine months of light, nine months of darkness, and inside the circle, bound tight as if with barbed wire, the six years he was allowed to live.
Pictures no longer offer much solace: they hold him forever motionless in frozen slices of Time while we move inexorably forward.
Six years is indeed all Noah ever had. I have fought this fact for close to nine months and part of me still wants to keep blinders over my eyes and conjure up a world where the Sandy Hook shooting never happened. But another part is beginning to acknowledge that it did happen, that Noah was in that school on that fateful day and that we lost him.
And it is as if a door was opening in my mind. Through that door, a little boy appears. He has grown. He still has the familiar shock of dark glossy hair but there is a gap in his front teeth. He looks more like a seven-year old than the six-year old he was when I last saw him. And I am coming to understand that denial is like the cast that is still imprisoning my wrist. It offers essential protection but at some point it must be discarded or atrophy sets in. Although I still struggle with acceptance, something is shifting.
Noah lives on because love doesn't end at death. He is no longer of this world but in my mind he is still growing. That's what kids do after all. Maybe a day will come when I'll settle for that.