Sluggo63
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- Oct 9, 2013
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Sluggo63
I know nobody really knows me here. I'm an infrequent poster with normally not much to say.
Maybe this post will be therapeutic. Maybe not.
It's been a week since I lost my youngest son to cancer. His 26th birthday would have been next month. I still can't wrap my head around how quickly it all progressed. He was diagnosed mid-July and not even two months later he isn't with us anymore.
He was a beautiful human with a quick wit and an ever quicker smile. A smile that would light up the room. He loved and was loved by anyone he came in contact with.
He's the kids that would go flying with me most often. So many log entries with his name in the remarks. Pancake breakfasts or just putzing around flying circles over our house. It was nice. I was even able to convince him to talk on the radio every once in a while.
I really don't know how to process this, except taking things minute by minute, day by day. One foot in front of the other. Trying to keep busy doing things that I thought I'd never have to do. Writing an obituary. Picking out an urn. Planning a memorial. Things that he should have had to do for me, not the other way around. Not that that's any more comforting, but at least it'd be the normal cycle of life.
Anyhow... I miss his voice. I miss his hugs. I miss our conversations. I miss just sitting on the sofa with him quietly watching TV. I miss him.
Rest in peace, Ben. I love you, kiddo.
**** cancer.
Maybe this post will be therapeutic. Maybe not.
It's been a week since I lost my youngest son to cancer. His 26th birthday would have been next month. I still can't wrap my head around how quickly it all progressed. He was diagnosed mid-July and not even two months later he isn't with us anymore.
He was a beautiful human with a quick wit and an ever quicker smile. A smile that would light up the room. He loved and was loved by anyone he came in contact with.
He's the kids that would go flying with me most often. So many log entries with his name in the remarks. Pancake breakfasts or just putzing around flying circles over our house. It was nice. I was even able to convince him to talk on the radio every once in a while.
I really don't know how to process this, except taking things minute by minute, day by day. One foot in front of the other. Trying to keep busy doing things that I thought I'd never have to do. Writing an obituary. Picking out an urn. Planning a memorial. Things that he should have had to do for me, not the other way around. Not that that's any more comforting, but at least it'd be the normal cycle of life.
Anyhow... I miss his voice. I miss his hugs. I miss our conversations. I miss just sitting on the sofa with him quietly watching TV. I miss him.
Rest in peace, Ben. I love you, kiddo.
**** cancer.