Parades, Fire Trucks and Remembering Stephen One Year Later....

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. ~From the television show The Wonder Years


I had a post all typed up and ready for today. I have, of course had this day on my mind, wondering how it would play out, and whether or not I would fall apart all over again. In some ways, it hardly seems like a day has passed, let alone an entire 365 of them. A full year since that phone call, telling me that life was forever changed.

So, in anticipation, I planned where I would be, and who would be with me; I wrote the blog for the day, in remembrance of a beautiful life taken too soon. And I planned to be as far removed from the 4th of July celebrations as I possibly could. I did not want anything to do with a hot dog, a flag, a parade or a fireworks display. It just did not seem to fit with the emotions that are attached to this day for me....the day the world changed.


But, as it's been with most of my grieving, the day is not what I expected. I often think that Stephen has brought me lessons over the last twelve months, to both teach me and guide me through the darkest days and reaffirm what is truly important. He was always so much smarter than me.


So, the well prepared, well thought out blog post does not fit anymore....and went out the window...


Yesterday, as I was driving with my husband and son down a remote road, thinking I had successfully outrun the 4th of July, I came upon a roadblock. A police car with flashing lights sat in the middle of the tiny road, waving us down and instructing us to stop. My immediate reaction was that it was something bad, an accident. It was not, far from it actually.


It was a parade.


And, at the head of the line of stopped traffic, we had front row seats. For the next hour, I watched fire trucks, and ponies, politicians and local personalities. I watched small children chase after candy as it was thrown from a truck, their parents running behind them to ensure they did not wander too close to the road. I watched families, smiling and chatting with one another, taking the time on this sunny day to do what we should all do more of every day, just love each other. It was young faces and old, waving flags and wearing funny hats, just smiling and living life as it should be. And I realized something.

That is as it should be.

I have a theory. I believe Stephen decided we needed to be at the front of the line to watch that parade. I believe he brought us to that remote road in the middle of nowhere to show us that it is still okay to smile and celebrate the 4th of July. I believe he wanted us to know that we can't outrun the day, nor should we try.


As the parade ended, the police car escorted us through the main street of the town, and we waved to the crowds as if we were the most magnificent part of the parade....and people laughed and took our picture, and thanked us for coming.


I tried to outrun the 4th, but it found me....and it turns out, that was a good thing.

It seems strange to think that he has been gone for a full year. Because honestly, he has been nestled in my heart this whole time. I feel him with me daily, guiding me, leading me towards a life full of living. I've had hundreds of deep conversations with him, reflecting on life and death. I feel him when I am parked behind a police car watching a parade, or when I am driving down a lonely road singing songs from Queen's Greatest Hits. I feel him when I stop and smell the roses, or do something that is not at all grown up, or laugh until I snort.

I feel him when I am living.

I spent the last 365 days looking for the good in the worst of situations. There were many days I could have found plenty of excuses to give up, to shut the curtains and wait to die. And some days, that seemed like a better option than to face the unbelievable pain that comes with losing a child, especially one as magnificent as Stephen.

But I didn't. I made a choice to look for the good in life, and to choose happiness. It has been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

Of all the things I have been most grateful for in this entire year, the decision to grieve with gratitude is the biggest thing by far. Because with a grateful heart, I can feel my beautiful boy all around me, every single day.

There has not been a day in the past year that he has not been a constant on my mind. With every decision, every move, every day, I think of him. I believe I will think of him like that until I die.

But until I die, I will live. And that is what this year has taught me. I can both hurt and live at the same time. In fact, I think that is truly what life is supposed to be. It is a mixture of both, a delicate recipe of two ingredients that balance each other, the good and the bad. You can' really truly appreciate the delicate flavor of the goodness in your life until the bitter taste of life's troubles has touched your tongue, reminding you of just how good your life really is.

I thought I would be writing this profound summation of events for this most sacred of days. It turns out the real lesson came in a parade.

So, go out and live today. Breathe in the summer air, eat that piece of cake, and ooh and aah about those fireworks.

And remember that life can still be wonderful, even when it hurts.

Wishing you all a magical 4th of July,


Kelly