365 Days

A year ago this minute, Caleb knew this was his last moments in our house. A year ago this evening, we were saying good night to him. His brother would share a room with him for the last time. A year ago tomorrow morning, I would send my last text to Caleb, reminding him to come to the McDonald's fundraiser after play rehearsal. He would reply "Cool", while at the same time, he was backing his stuff up to drive to Charleston. A year ago tomorrow at approximately 4:00, I would receive a call from a detective that would make my heart stop and never really start beating again normally. A year ago 36 hours from now, Sean and I would sit across from that same detective and hear him say there were witnesses; there's no doubt.

It's amazing how much does not change in 365 days. How the hurt feels the same. How the guilt is still heavy. How many questions are still unanswered. How utterly unnecessary it all feels - "if he had only", "if I had only", "if someone had only". 

One year is not a mark I want to cross. It will be the end of being able to think or say things like "A year ago today..."; thinking of what we were doing a "year ago" when Caleb was still here. How simple it was. How we had no idea our lives were about to change forever. How we had no idea how diseased Caleb's mind really was. It will be the end of being able to think, "If I could just go back to this day last year... I know that I could turn everything around." Maybe I'm fooling myself, but somehow my pretend time machine gives me pretend hope. 

Tomorrow there will be no more "a year ago" moments in regards to memories with Caleb. That breaks my heart. The year has been too long. The year has been too short. Caleb was just here, sitting in the living room chair across from me, focusing on his phone more than "being present" with the family. He was just talking excitedly in the kitchen about the next phase with the theatre, contemplating his next part, and giving me all the theatre gossip. He was just there in his bed in the morning, refusing to get up the 2nd or 3rd time I woke him, with me feeling exasperated on how I should make him get up. He was just in my car, sitting next to me, talking nonstop while we traveled to our latest college tour or theatre show.

So, we survived one year. But that's all it feels like I've been doing - surviving. I know that I need to live again. And I will. It's time to make peace and smile more than hurt. This world is just not the same without you, Caleb. My life is just not the same without you, Caleb. 

But. But. It is so much better for it. I am so much of a better person because you lived in my home for 17 years. I will be so much of a better person because you've lived in my heart this past year and will continue to live there until my last day on Earth. Right before I get to hug you again. 

Thank you for making me a mom - your Mom. And thank you for every minute, every day, every year with and without you.