Saturday, December 1, 2012

Never let Corbin be forgotten...thoughts

It's been so long since I've wrote anything on this page. But I feel like I can share here. Like it's safe.

What I fear the most is that Corbin will be forgotten. It's different when you have a living child; they are always around, doing things, passing milestones, making your life brighter.
But when your child is's totally different. You LIVE EACH DAY trying to share their story, spread their legacy, continue their life.

It's hard.

I love my son. Don't you ever question that. He has changed my life more then you could ever fathom. Corbin was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. He was the best in the sense that he opened my eyes to compassion, true love, patience, PATIENCE!!!, and the will to make a difference. He was the worst in the sense that I have never really felt pain until he left. I thought I did.
My boyfriend died in a motorcycle crash when I was eighteen. I've never written about this before. In the moment, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I remember laying in my bed just screaming in pain. My soul was broken. But I also remember the day I "got over it". I remember waking up and realizing that I wasn't thinking about Brandon. I wasn't thinking about the way he died and I moved on.

But losing a child.


Losing a child is losing a piece of yourself. Losing a child has no comparison. Losing a child defines you. Whether you chose to let that definition be positive or negative is up to you, but it defines you and the entirety of your life.

Some people compare losing a child to losing a pet. I will not apologize for the fact that I will NEVER.




agree to that comparison. I lost my son, then a couple months later my dog died. My dog, my puppy, of TWELVE years. The puppy that was a surprise from my parents after begging for months, and months, and months, for a golden retriever. That day I finally got one. His eyes were droopy but he was mine. He was my Sandy. I loved that dog incredibly. I cried just thinking about the day he would die. After I got married, I took Sandy with me to my new home. I had to chain him up for a couple weeks so that he would know this is his new home and that he should stay close by, since a highway went in front of our house. He did great. He stayed close by, only crossing the street to forage through the neighbor's trash.
And they loved him.
They would set scraps out for him, knowing that he would visit sometime during the night and gobble those scraps up.
They asked about him, after he died. They asked "Where is Sandy? We left some deer scraps out for him but they haven't been eaten. Is he okay?"

I cried the day he died. I'm tearing up right now thinking about it.

Sandy was MY puppy. Even though he was twelve human years old, 36 dogs years old, he was always my puppy. He was gold, and soft, and the sweetest, most loving dog you have ever met.
But it was his time. He was getting old. His nose was grey and he started keeping to himself. I knew it was coming, but it still hurt when my father-in-law called to tell me that Sandy had died during the night, in his sleep.


losing Corbin was different. Losing Corbin was NOTHING like losing Sandy. Sandy was a pet, he was a part of my family but I knew he would die. I knew he wouldn't stick around forever.

I thought my son would stick around forever.

What more do I need to say? There is no greater loss in life then having to bury your child. Whether they were still in utero or 45 years old, there is NOTHING like losing a child and don't you DARE tell me otherwise.