I've been keeping myself busy these past 8 weeks. With a newborn, two hyper children, and a neglected house that is easy to do. A busy mind doesn't have much time to dwell.
Yet, it doesn't work. Organizing a kitchen drawer finds me with little pieces of Legos, Jacob's favorite restaurant's menu, a Nintendo game. Folding clothing and finding a random item of Jacob's. Going through school things and noticing the lack of third grade items - since they won't be needed this year.
Even a job as simple as cleaning off my desk turns into a journey down memory lane. A drawing, a picture from 2010 from Chuck E. Cheese, a birth announcement that never got taped into his baby book. Hospital papers and chemotherapy information (which went immediately into the trash can, I can't stand memories of that).
I don't want to forget Jacob. I don't want to forget our happy memories. But there is no escape from this ever presence reminder of his absence. It is a not even formed scab ripped off hundreds of times a day. The wound grows deeper, more painful, as the days go by. 8 weeks without him; 58 days to be exact.
Science says you can't live without air after 3 minutes. Without water after 3 days. Without food after 3 weeks. All these seem less important than living without Jacob. And yet, 8 weeks...58 days later we are still here...without him. An amazing feat? Or just testament to how grief shapes us, changes us, keeps us going after our loved ones have passed?
There is no escaping. Death. Loss. Grief. Pain. It happens to the best of us.