This week marks the beginning of a countdown no mama wants to observe.
It’s not the happy “days left ’til delivery” of a newborn bundle of joy. It’s not “days left ’til school’s out” or prom or a wedding or a college graduation.
Instead it’s a heart-wrenching countdown to all the “lasts” before the final “last time I saw his face”.
Today is the third anniversary of the last time I saw Dominic alive.
The last time I spoke to him in person, the last time I hugged his neck, the last time I hollered, “Be safe!” as he pulled down the long driveway on his way back to his apartment.
I wish I had said more,
studied his face more closely,
breathed in his scent more deeply,
done ANYTHING that would have made that moment more memorable.
But it was just one more ordinary moment in what I was certain would be many more ordinary moments.
Except it wasn’t.
I don’t know how many years it might take for my heart and mind and body and soul to stop marking these dates. I doubt I’ll live long enough for that to happen.
I’m thankful I will see him again. But I want to see him NOW.
My heart cries, “I want it back! Oh, how I want it back!”
My heart hurts.
And it is going to hurt-the countdown is only beginning.