It is December 1st. We are closing in on what is normally a festive time of year, wherein family look forward to getting together for a few days during this special time of year, at the beginning of a long winter season.
For our family, December 1st (as is the case for the first day of every month) is a perpetual monthly anniversary of the 1st of May 2020 when we lost James.
On this day I can’t help but think that, while it has been 19 months since James has passed, the memory of James is just as entrenched in my heart and mind as it was on May 1st 2020.
There is this constant overriding feeling of sadness knowing he is no longer with us. At the same time I am overwhelmed as I recall all the time he was with us.
As his father, I miss intensely all the short moments and long moments I spent with him.
All the meals we shared stand out now as bigger events than they seemed at the time. James was a food lover. When James was hungry, which was a lot of the time, his enthusiasm for a good meal was unparalleled as was his appreciation for whoever made it possible. Whether it was a simple ice Capp, a meal deal at McDs or Subway or à more elaborate family dinner, James was always quick to express his thanks and appreciation for such moments.
Small or large gatherings involving opportunities for James to join in the sharing of a meal just seem to stand out more now as fond memories of our time with him.
James was also very vibrant and enthusiastic about certain activities he loved. Fitness, boxing, kick boxing and the like were all endeavours where James felt the most complete. It usually meant he surrounded himself with people with the same passion for such pursuits and this just brought out in him a level of commitment and happiness that is just plain nice to remember.
At a more personal level, memories of him as my son, with all the ups and downs encountered during our father-son relationship, stand out probably the most as the most fulfilling. James intensity, when he was feeling good, or not so good, just pulled you in. It felt so good when he was feeling good, it made me smile to no end and I just wanted to sense that he would feel that way forever. During tougher moments, when he was struggling (as we all do at times), you were just drawn in and wanted to be in his corner to help him any way you could, sometimes beyond what he even wanted.
The ongoing pain and the grief that just seems to not want to subside, is thankfully not overshadowed by the countless heartfelt happy and powerful memories of our time together and every second I had the privilege of being his dad.
I miss you and love you every day my son.
R