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I love and miss you Phil Phil…good night. 
Mom
I miss Phillip.
I am in San Francisco with Paul and Sam. We are having a good time bopping around the city…tasting wine, eating good food.
Sam has just finished a leadership class in Northern California. I am so proud of him. It is a class Phil wanted to go to when he was alive.
The constant and persistent ego is not my friend. The only thing I can do is be diligent in recognizing that my ego wants me to remain sad. Gloomy. Depressed. Guilty. None of these emotions are productive. Sure, I have had them before and was always able to push them aside and laugh. I could see what a funny human I was and how these emotions were not productive. With the death of my son, it is not as easy to laugh. I find that the emotions are more difficult to take to a high place. I don't really care. The little things that used to drive me….well….they just don't seem that important. I don't give a shit if anyone likes me. I don't care if I say hello to them or if I hold my mouth right so they will know I like them.
In other words, I feel a little empty. I want to care, I really do. After having my son die and have his body burn up in the car, nothing really seems to be that big of a deal. The comparison game dulls everything next to that horrific accident. He is gone and my heart has taken a terrible blow. One I used to think I could never get through.
I haven't been writing on here as much because I think my thoughts are not as clear as they normally are. I am raw emotion and that means I am all over the place. There is no sense to it all. Somedays I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't care if they get mad. I don't care if they don't understand. I have a gaping wound that I am tending and somedays I am sure I will simply bleed out.
Some injuries take a long time in which to heal. This injury called grief seems to be one of those for me. I did well when both mom and dad died. I expected them to die, they were old and had lived a very long life. I struggled a bit with thinking I was next. I had to come to grips with my own demise. I knew that I was next in line. Except when I wasn't. Now the game had changed.
I am finding that I am not starting to become the go-to person for people who have lost their children. A women's son overdosed on drugs…..my friends call me to comfort her. Another had a suicide. Today I found out that my other son, Sam, had a friend who killed himself over a girl. I don't think I can provide much comfort. I suppose it is the old saying, "Misery loves company." I don't know what else to think. I certainly have no more words than anyone else. If anything, I have less.
If you have children and they are still alive. Hug them. Hold them. Tell them how much you love them. Don't let them weasle out of your grasp. I used to do this with Phillip. I told him about a woman who had lost her son on facebook a couple of years ago….he said, I know mom that would be sad….then he added something like, I will take care of myself. Nothing will happen to me mom, I promise.
I know you didn't do it on purpose Phillip. I know you wanted to give me comfort. Still, it did happen to you and now here I am….missing my baby. My Phil Phil.
Today is April 14, 2013. It has been exactly 226 days since the police came to my 
door and told me my baby left this earth. I don't know how I have gotten this far down the road….I have put the hurt on my health since he died. I was probably in the best shape I had been since I was 25 years old and now…I am in the worst.
The human brain is a powerful thing. With all the personal growth I have come to know and teach, I still find myself giving in to the whims of my ego. The ego always wants us to suffer. I have allowed my ego to take hold and now I have to crawl back out of the hole I have dug for myself. Most people say they understand why I would do this…because after all…we are all human. We know how the mind can trick us into the suffering when something tramatic happens.
So many people say the same thing, "I cannot imagine what it is like." Well, sometimes it is hard for me to even describe what it is like. The initial shock and saddness was nearly too much to bear. It all came so sudden and he had so much to live for…the baby, his youth, his family who loved him. Even as I type this…it is still difficult for me to accept that he is gone forever from this earth. I will be an old woman and he will still be 22 in my mind.
After the initial shock and saddness there is sudden outbursts of saddness. I think of him every moment of the day…every street I see, car, even a song can remind me of him. Everything. I have watched each family memeber grieve differently. Some shut down. Others power through. Others yet are "the strong ones". I have tried to stay at the top of the wave and ride it. Whatever I feel, I feel. It doesn't matter if I am at the grocery store or at home, the tears come.
Now that has been 226 days. I still have this constant feeling of dread. Sort of like, who's next? I mean, if this could happen to Phil…which one of us is next. I strongly dislike this feeling….I fight with the demons in my head to not even go there for a second. I am sure it would be the end of me. My husband points out…it wouldn't. It is yet another tactic of the ego to keep you suffering.
I know sufferfing is optional. It always is. I find my brain (ego) wanting to say, sure it is….we will see. Go ahead and try to be happy. Then you would just be a bad mom. How can you ever be happy again?
It is easy for me to go with this thought of course…because, well, I sort of wonder if I can be happy. AND I know that in order to teach personal growth…I must live it. I have to be happy. Why? Because I can. I can choose to be happy. I watch Phil's baby who lives in the moment. She will cry one mintue and be happy the next. Happiness is possible…..even for a grieving mom.
I hadn't been writing lately and there was no reason other than I thought it had to look a certain way. I need to have my writings Search Engine Optimized…they needed photos and great titles. Then I said, what the hell are you doing, you are writing to help others and to mostly help yourself…to get through this. So that is what I am doing. Writing.
I miss my son. I love him. He was a great kid and I enjoyed all the stages of his life. I am thankful I had the opportunity to know him. I wouldn't give that up for anything. Even if it would get rid of this pain I feel daily.
Wow Phil. It has been almost six months since you died. On March 1, 2013 it will be six months. It is also 3 years March 1st since my mom died, Grandma. I never expected to outlive you though. I did her. I am working with the new reality I have now. It is opportunity for healing. It is opportunity to get close to others who loved you. That is what you would want…I am sure of it. You were such a loving young man…you were pretty cool. Missing my son.
I remember when they first placed you in my arms. Oh my goodness did we have a rough time getting you here. I was so excited and scared at the same time. I don't know how many hours I was in labor, it seemed like forever and I was so tired. When you finally came, you were brused and had an odd shaped head from being stuck so long. I remember this like it was yesterday. Missing my son.
The opportunity to be there in the room with you when Ava was born was so awesome. I am still in awe that you and Ezgi trusted me enough to be there with you. I don't know why you wouldn't trust me…it is just sort of weird to have your boyfriends mother there, I suppose. I was so glad when she changed her mind and you called us at 3 AM. I was so very excited. This is one of my greatest memories of you! I remember when you were watching her come out the birth canal you kept saying, "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God…" and then I smacked you in the back to bring you back to your surroundings. It was so funny and I thought it seemed like a kid thing to do….this was a new era in your life…a new time…one step further into being a man. Responsibility like no other. Missing my son.
I worred about you being a dad. You had struggled so much to make ends meet and stay out of trouble…all of a sudden this responsible young man was emerging. I loved seeing you with the baby. I loved seeing how you lit up when you saw her and how you would rock her at the house. I loved how you would put her in bed with you and snuggle. She is so loving. She is so much like you were! She says, "Hi" to everyone. Missing my son.
I remember you following the nurse around to watch every thing she was doing with Ava. You were already protective of her. Then when you held her…you looked into her eyes and then looked up and giggled…then you looked back at her and then the tears came…tears of joy. I so treasure this memory and will share it with Ava always! Her daddy loved her so and wanted her so and he cried when he first held her! You were so attentive to Ezgi too! Helpful. Many dads arn't and you were….you watched the baby and cooked and cleaned and even decorated the house. Going through your stuff and seeing household decorations, it's sort of funny….I like it. It was one of the things I loved about you. Missing my son.
Phil, I really miss you. I always will. I promise I won't get stuck in your death. Your life is what counted to me. All the moments between the first movement I felt inside my body, right up until you took your last breathe. I have been mad at you for dying. And just like in life, I never could stay mad…the smile you would flash and hard time you would give me…"Why do you want to be mad Mom?" Missing my son.
You were a calming force for me for sure. I am having to learn to calm myself now. It is more difficult as I am highly emotional and I don't have that outside perspective you gave me. I wish I could hold you one more time and hear your voice. I have several recordings of it…I listen to them while driving and sometimes when I am at the house alone. I loved that laugh. I am glad I told you how much I love it right before you died. Ava has it too…sort of a giggle. Missing my son.
For all you dads out there…I want to share what I see happening. I want to share what I experienced happening. Of course this is not ALL dads…I am using it as a blanket statement because I know dads are busy making a living. They are focused. They want their sons to grow up and be able to support their families as well. The thing is…your baby boys need your attention too. They need hugs and nurturing. They need to be recognized and held and whispered to and loved. Of course you love them…well all know you do. The thing is…do they feel loved by you?
I was at a funeral yesterday. It was for a five year old boy. This young boy was sick since birth. He had lost oxygen to the brain. Poor decisions were made and they nearly lost their first born child….a son. I listened to the dad speak about how much care he gave his son. 24/7 is what it took to keep him alive for five years. A strain on the family. A strain on the marriage. Yet, this dad stepped up. He was not only there to support financially, he was there emotionally and in everyother way to care for his son.
I was wearing my boots and they have high heels…because I had been at a video shoot prior to the funeral, I was running late and by the time I got there it was standing room only. I stayed for most of the funearl and then retreated to the front room. There was a sofa and a mother with a six month old baby girl. She was playing with her and rocking her. When the funeral was over, dad appeared with his three year old son. I watched their interaction. The father constantly critisized the boy. Don't do that. Get over here. Only one piece of candy. What are you doing? Be quiet. The boy continued to seek out dads attention and the father would look over him and around him. He seemed like a good dad. He clearly loved his son and family. He didn't know what he was doing. The boys head would sink lower and lower each time. You could see his little frame hunching. It was clear to me…his son wanted his love and attention and he was too busy.
My husband rejoined me and we waited out the line to speak to the family. As we sat, my husband leaned over and said, "Watch this dad with his boy."
"I have been." I replied. "Why?"
"I just wish I could tell him to pick him up and hug him. Hold him. Be with him. He kep shushing him in the Chappel. He is too harsh on the little guy. He doesn't know." He said. "It is like he is ignoring him. Mom is in tune…dad is not."
"You should teach men how to be with their families." I said.
We wre quiet then and both watched a while longer. I considered telling this young father something. But what?
Paul told me he had a dream the other night. Phil was just a little guy. He said it was at our old house and he came in and all the kids were little and they were all there. He ran over and grabbed Phil and picked him up and held him and said, "I love you Phil. I love you."
He said everyone was confused because he feel to the floor holding Phil and saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you Phil." He laid on the floor and just held Phil while the rest of the family watched. Finally he looked up and said, Phil is going to die when he is older, yet still young. I am so sad about this.
I thought of the dream. How many times I had watched Phil sleep. I remember feeling guilty because I would tell him to go to bed and I would be in to read him a story and by the time I got the dishes done…he was fast asleep. I missed those moments with him. They were opportunities. I don't care about dishes. As a matter of fact, I hate doing dishes….dishes are always there. Phil isn't.
I would do a better job if I could go back. I would hold each of my children more. I would spend one on one time with them. I would look them in the eyes when they talked. I would turn off my cell phone. I would BE with them. Of course I cannot go back. What I can do is tell YOU to do a better job. Read them stories. Talk to them. Teach them. Don't spank them. It doesn't work. I did it….I did it in a very logical way….it was not done in anger..yet, it injured their self worth. I would teach them in love. I hope you will read this and change some things. Call me for ideas…read books…listen to tapes. Be the very best parent you can be. You only get one shot and it goes fast.
I love you Phil. I want you to know I think you were a great kid. I enjoyed seeing you grow into a man. Thank you for loving me inspite of my failings.
MOM
Saderday night. Yes, I know I spelled it Sad-erday instead of Saturday. It is the day of the week Phil died. I am hiding out at work. Working 14 hour days so I don't have to miss Phil. I miss him so much I cannot breathe. I mean I seriously have a real problem breathing. They say it is asthma. Really? At 49? I guess it is possible. Spiritually they say that lung problems comes from unresolved grief. Hmmm. I could certainly see that in this case. It started when my mom died. Unresolved? Well…I would think it wouldn't be grief in the first place if it was resolved…of course that is just me.
It is so hard to go on without him. How do I do that? I can work a lot and do my daily activities and then when I wake in the morning or go to bed at night…I think of him. When I think of him, I focus on the good times and then I realize, he is gone. I cannot cry another tear…or so I think, and then the floodgates open.
I wonder if he sees me? If he does, he wouldn't like it that I was so sad. He would want me happy. I think of this and then I get angry at him for leaving. The baby looks and acts so much like he did. He was the best baby ever. He minded and was happy. He gave me no trouble. She is the same way. He wanted to be with me and go with me and learn and play. Ava is the same way. If only I could spend every waking moment with her….I would.
I know people don't understand what this process is like. How do I know? Because I didn't understand. I would say….oh my gosh…that is aweful…I will pray for you…and then I would of course…and then I would go on with my life. They would come to mind from time to time, yet, I couldn't stay there. I feel like I don't have a choice but to be where I am now. I want this grief to be over. All the possibilities I used to consider for his life are gone. He is gone. Accept. Accept. This is what I need to do.
Except that I don't. I don't accept it. It is so final. It is so sad. It is so wrong. I resist it! I resist with my entire being. I don't want him dead. I want him alive. I don't care what he did or the trouble he caused…although he seemed to be on the right track…I want him back.
I want my first born back.
I love you Phil and I miss you with all my heart.
My son is gone. I miss him. Today is the second of January. Yesterday was four months since the police showed up one beautiful afternoon and informed us my son was no longer a part of this earth. I still do not know how that can be. My son was healthy. He was strong. He was beautiful and perfect.
I remember when my son was born. I carefully unwrapped him. He was my first born. He was a special package and I still was young and insecure about how to handle him. My son was just a few hours old and seemed so small and fragile. I looked at his toes and wrinkled little legs. I touched each one of them as if to make sure they were real. I held each little finger. I smelled him. I watched him wiggle around in his sleep.
When the police came that day, I only heard enough to know my son was dead. It didn't matter at the time how it happened…the result was the same, no more Phil. I didn't want or need details. The question was not how, it was why? Why? Why? Why? Why him? Why now? Why today? Why? They didn't have the answer to that. It would not have mattered if they gave me an answer. There is no answer that would be enough. Nothing could justify Phil being gone. I loved that kid so much. To the depth of my soul.
I can still smell his smell. I have his blanket that he slept with. It is dirty and needs to be washed and I cannot bring myself to wash it. I had sinus surgery and have not had any sense of smell in nearly two years. I might regain my smell someday and I want whatever faint smell of him is left to still be there…just in case. Even if it is dirty. I don't care. I slept in the guest room last night with his blanket. I held it like a person. I hugged it. After all, it was his. I imagined him sleeping with it. Maybe he drooled on it….I can still see him sleeping. He snored. I imagined it in my head.
His car sits in the driveway. I love seeing it there. I wonder how long a car will last just sitting in the driveway? My husband has talked about selling it, yet, I know he likes seeing it too. He hasn't taken any action to market it.
Time marches on. Four months? Really? It seems like it didn't even happen and it also seems like an eternity.
I feel as if I cannot breathe. There seems to be no release except the extreme crying and sleep. It has been sometime since I have had the extreme crying. I stayed home Christmas Day and watched Jack Frost and then lost it and cried and cried like it was my last breath. I fell to the floor and wailed and felt a sense of release. The day after Phil died, I took a walk on the side of the house, I felt my legs go limp and I crumpled in a heap on the side of our home. I banged the ground and yelled and sobbed like one would expect of a mother who just lost her child. I howled. The dogs howled. I felt as if my world had ended. I remember reading in the bible…this must be what wailing and nashing of teeth looked like. I looked around and the world continued. I looked around some more and everything looked different, though I knew it wasn't. The world was the same, it was my perception of the world that had changed. It wasn't safe. If Phil could die, so could my other kids. I had to protect them.
Tonight my daughter Emma came home and wanted to go sledding with some friends up in Prescott tomorrow. The answer was no of course. Why? She is so responsible. I trust her. She is a great kid. An honor student. But, my son died. This means my daughter could die. There could be a drunk driver. There could be ice on the road. There could be foolishness that happens. Seven kids in a suburban driving in the mountains with snow during the Holiday? Too many red flags went off inside me. No. No. NOOOOOOO. You cannot go! You could die! Don't you understand? You could be like Phil. If Phil could die, so could you. Now I know what it could be like to lose a child. It is possible. Before my son died, it was something I could not imagine…it would be too painful. I would die if that happened. Except that I didn't. I am left to live with the pain….unbearable pain. Fear was raising it's ugly head.
Well meaning friends give advice about losing my son. They send poems and cards about my son…about death and heaven. Nothing can make the pain and loss of my son subside. My husband says I am doing better. What are my options? If I don't do better I will die. My heart cannot hurt this much and still beat. If I continue to open that door in my mind, I will die. Hell, I feel like if I touch the handle on that door in my mind I will die. Somedays I wish I COULD die…I want to stop feeling the loss of my son and it never seems to go away. I am becoming a prisoner of my own mind, of my own emotions.
People tell me, this is not what he would want. He would not want you to be sad. Bullshit. Really? How do you know? Did you know him? What he would want is to be here to raise his daughter. What he would not want is to be dead. He didn't want to die. Stop telling me stupid shit! What is true is PEOPLE don't want me to be sad. It makes them sad. It makes them feel uncomfortable. Well tough shit. I am sad. I am going through this. It is real for me. Deal with it.
I sometimes feel guilty for being negative about this. I should be a shining example to others about how to grieve. I have all these amazing personal growth tools. What good are they if I don't use them in difficult times? Yet, I don't FEEL positive…I feel hurt, sadness, loss. Is that so wrong? After all, these are just emotions and emotions are neither good nor bad, correct? Most people think for a minute how bad it would be to lose a child and they cannot imagine. You know how many times I have heard that? "I can't imagine that." If it is too painful to even imagine. Try living it. The initial loss is bad….what is worse is living with it. Day in and day out, Phillip is not here.
Maybe it is just because it is Christmas? I so wish that was true. I know it will continue into the New Year and month after month. I suspect it is because I just miss my son and I think I always will.
Christmas Past
Every year at Christmas we watch Scrooge. It is such a great story of how we tend to get stuck in what we think is important and it takes something really big and scary to jolt us out of being stuck….then we can do something different.
I look at Phillips death as my big jolt. I feel tired and drained. I want to do something different….yet, I am not sure if I am. I love my kids….this makes me want to say I love you and make sure we hug each time you leave the house. It is coming across like I am paranoid. I guess I am. I mean, if Phil can die, they could too, right?
His ghost is everywhere. I seem Phil as a baby, a toddler, an elementary kid, a teenager, a young adult. I see him as a father. I see him as a driver. His car still sits in the driveway. Neither my husband or I have the heart to get rid of it. It sort of seems like he is here when it is in the driveway.
This year, I didn't want to do Christmas. Everywhere I look I see Phillip's presence. The ghost of Christmas past. You might think this would bring a level of peace yet it reminds me I will never hug him, smell him, hear his voice or get to see him age. Of all the firsts, this Christmas one seems to be the most painful by far….there has been Christmas stuff up since Halloween and it seems it will never end. When I was shopping, I was thinking Phil would love this…and then I would remember.
As I was going through the orniments, the Ghost of Christmas Past was certainly lurking in my head. The little handmade 
orniments from Phillp's grade school years….his very first Mickey Mouse orniment that one of my friend had given me. And then there is the cheap little snowman orniment that had his first baby picture cutout and glued into it. I rememeber taking that photo oh so well. It was before iphones and digital cameras….I couldn't wait to get the film back and then I got copies of the photo and sent it to everyone I know. Then there was the one he made me in 2000 with his photo on it. He had dyed his hair blond that year….he thought it was so cool. He loved giving me gifts.
Phillip was about five months old when he and I laid in bed and watched Christmas shows one cold Saturday. We lived in Northern California. Phillip was just starting to be aware of things and he was so patient and good all day long. I couldn't believe he was MY baby….he didn't fuss and was just easy. He was so much like his dad. He even smelled like his dad. We watched a musical version of The Christmas Carol…better known as Scrooge and I sang him the lyrics for years…right up until he died as a matter of fact. I would change the words and throw in something about laundry.
The Ghost of Christmas Past is lurkning everywhere I turn. Phillip loved to decorate and if it wasn't for that fact, I would not have gotten a single decoration out this year. He was so excited for Ava to have Christmas this year. He was talking about it in August. She had a great Christmas. She kissed his photo several times. I think her mom must teach her that.
The Christmas ghost lingers in my head mostly. I cannot seem to escape. Paul said he cried at work today. We are learning to grieve together. We must support each other…so many couples lose themselves in the grief…there are many more Christmas trees to put up and Christmas ornimants to hang….this will not define us…not for long term…maybe for awhile….not for the long term.
I think of the ghost of Christmas past. In the movie it was everything that could have been, should have been…the regrets. I have those. I could have been a better mom. I could have been a better teacher to Phil. Could have, wouldn't have should have. There is no going back. This Christmas is without Phil. Last year was the last Christmas with Phil. How did we know. We didn't. We thought time would march on forever and allow us to be part of it. It didn't.
Merry Christmas. Hold your babies. Tell them everything you want to tell them now. This Christmas. You never know, the Christmas past may not look the way you think it should.
How are you? This is the question I dread hearing each time I go out. It seems strange but it is honestly why I don't want to go out because, " How are you? " is asked of me over and over. Today I called Wells Fargo about Phillip's checking account and the lady answered the phone, "How are you?" I thought it was funny since I was in the middle of writing this article. I go to the grocery store and look the lady in the eye and she says, "How are you today?" It is something I don't even want to ask myself because I know the answer deep down. It is lurking…the Ego, just waiting to be asked the dread question…waiting for me to check in with my emotions….I suppose it is the Ego that Eckhart Tolle speaks of, that insane part of our mind that is waiting to inflict pain on our psyche at all times. The funny thing, it is what people want to learn to ask when learning new languages so they can ask other people a question they really don't want the answer to….How are you?
How are you? This is a mindless way we greet one another. Why not just say hello? The Ego runs the show most of the time. Americans are so on autopilot in their lives….we have social rules set up by our parents, teachers, religious leaders…it is no wonder kids rebel against it. Kids don't live in their Ego, until we teach them to. How are you? This question is simply another nicety we use in our society to ACT like we really care without really caring. How are you? How we really are as a society is: closed, scared, dishonest. We, as a society, take a creative, open mind and close it…making it proper and polite…I know I did it to my kids. You have to act "this way" in the restaurant, "this way" at school, "this way" around other children's parents. I am not proud of this…as a matter of fact, I didn't even know it could be attributed to the way my children turn out as adults. And I am here to tell you now that they are adults…it can be attributed to the way they become as adults. And of course there is a balance…kids who have no training end up in prison or worse…dead. I am not saying not to train them…I am saying there is a better way to train them…and I digress from the subject at hand, How are you?
I would even resort to physical violence known as spanking to get my kids to comply and act appropriately. What the heck? How important is it really to be accepted by others? There is a whole other philosophy on spanking children. I certainly did it when my kids were little and I would NOT do it again. There are other ways to train children than through spanking. I suppose that is a whole other article for that matter.
Society wants us to put our brain on autopilot and shut down creative thought. This is the 
collective Ego at work. Living in the moment doesn't take a lot of thought in my opinion…it is being fully engaged in what is going on…not worried about the fear of tomorrow or the threat of past events. The Ego will shut down everything we do that causes joy, bliss and being connected. It will shut down honesty. Shut down emotions. Shut down the very things that makes us unique. The Ego wants us to be FAKE, disingenuous, plastic. Why is it so important to be liked and to fit in? Why is it so important to look good for people in general. Why is it so important to look good for strangers? People you don't really know. Is autopilot really so attractive…do we all need to think and behave the same way? The Ego says yes.
What would happen if we had more honesty in our society? What if someone at the store asked you how you really were and you really told them? It could be you just closed a big real estate deal or got a promotion at work…tell them all the details. Maybe your daughter or son is an honor student or they are getting married. All of this sounds great, right? What about the other stuff, the stuff no one wants to talk about? Your daughter was just arrested for drugs, your mother is terminal, your brother broke his leg or perhaps like me, your son was killed in a car accident. Is that what they want to know? Do they really want to know how are you?
What would happen if I said how I really was right now? Angry, pissed off, sad, empty? Oh my gosh, the personal growth advocate is not positive. What is going on? I thought she only posted positive stuff on Facebook and only spoke of positive books she has read and personal growth classes she has taken that have changed her life. It is sort of weird because even writing this I know it is wrapped in personal growth. I know that it is not healthy to deny or fake feeling good….denying my emotions. I am raw right now. I miss my son. I don't give a shit about social graces…how very ungraceful of me. Oh well. There is that Ego again.
How are you? I am sad, empty, grieving, hurting. It's okay to be here. I don't want to stay here and I find I struggle to get out. It is truly a struggle I can teach you more about once I get my Sealegs with it. Right now…I still wobble…I havn't grasped how to do it yet. So when someone asks me, How are you? I think I will answer, healing. That is what I want and as a Life Coach, the healthy attitude would be to focus on what I want without denying what I have.
Election day was today. I saw Phillips ballot come in the mail right before he died and I asked him if he planned to vote in this election. He said yes. I think he enjoyed being a grownup.
Phillip was 22 when he died just two months before this election. What is Election Day like to a 22 year old? I remember voting in my second election. When Election Day came around it was wet and cold in Nebraska. I voted for Ronald Regan and was so happy about having him as a candidate. I thought he was amazing. Election Day for this 22 year old was a great memory. I don't know what Election Day would have been like for Phil. I only know he was 22.
Today as I voted…I realized Phil only got to vote in a Presidential Election one time. This would have been his second time and he didn't make it. His ballot is still laying in the pile near out kitchen counter. I haven't been able to toss it. It is sort of like I hope he will walk in the door and tell me what a big mistake the police made and that he is not really dead. He was kidnapped and taken to Mexico and it took him two months to escape and get back home.
Phillip I don't know who you would have voted for this Election Day. We didn't discuss it that day. We were still two months from Election Day when you died. So Phillip, they are calling Obama the new Ronald Regan….I don't think so….yet, here is what they are saying….
I wish you were here to vote. How can they have an Election Day without you? Don't they know your vote counts? You are important? They are missing a vote…I wish you were here to hug, to smell, to hear your laugh just one more time, just for a few minutes…I would hold you tight and tell you over and over just how much you are loved and how much you are missed. How important you are and how I just want you back. I would tell you that your vote counts and it just doesn't seem right to count the votes without you here. Of course nothing seems right without you here.