Brandon was my 'first born'. Our lives are measured and celebrated by "First's". First tooth, first steps, first day of school, first kiss, first job. Some of us even have our 'first marriage' to put on that list, only to realize it was a rough draft and the final draft would be the so much more (love to Scott). This Sunday, October 9th, will be the end of a list of 'firsts' few want to embrace. 365 to be exact. Each morning since October 9th has been the start of something new. Our culture focuses on the understanable firsts - Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, Mother's Day and yes, they are as hard as everyone imagines. Oddly, of the holidays, Valentines Day was horrible for me. To be so keenly aware that Brandon will never come home with that warm twinkle in his milk chocolate eyes and his genuine soft smile and say he has met "the one". Knowing I will never be at his wedding or watch him hold a new baby that would be his pride and joy. His birthday, May 12th, we had his favorite Carrot Cake and sent wishes up to Brandon in Heaven. That was the easy part. The hard part was sweet innocent Sam asking, "Whewe B at?" and looking for him to share the cake with. But really what makes these the easy ones is that they are predictable, I knew they were coming. And, had I forgotten, others are happy to remind me because it is a topic people feel comfortable bringing up to someone in my position. Somehow everyone becomes an experts in the "first year". So, subtract out about 6 days of recognizable firsts and there are 259 days left of firsts for me to experience.
These other 259 days are sprinkled with days early on when I could hardly get out of bed, in spite of the fact I most likely didn't sleep more than about 3 hours. It has just been since Labor Day that I have actually slept through the night. Here are a few of my everyday firsts through the past year.
The first day I realized the bags under my eyes were here to stay and that the deepening of the crevasse across my forehead probably wasn't going anywhere either. Visual expressions of what my heart felt was literally written across my face.
The first Sunday after Thanksgiving when Daniel walked by my bedroom door and saw me crying. He came in, hugged me tight and told me with such conviction that he is always here for me and that anything I needed to say or do he would be here for me. My first glimpse at the changing dynamics of our family. Daniel had now moved up from middle child to oldest.
Followed by the first day (September 8th) Daniel told me how much he appreciated me listening to him and thanked me for the last year. I'm not sure who has supported whom more, but we have both clung to each other through each day this year. Without Brandon to bridge Daniel and I together we have had to rebuild our own bridge. The bridge is made of trust, transparency and a comfortable knowing where we have both been and the trolls we had to slay to build the bridge.
The first day (March 1st) when I actually felt 'hope' warm my chest and expand my heart. I called Scott and through tears told him about this first, I could hear the fear he had carried since October 9th melt away in his voice and be replaced with his own hope that maybe, someday, he would get his wife back.
The first day, over Memorial weekend, we played cards in our new camper. Brandon loved camping and I always wanted a camper when the big boys were young. The simple act of a camping trip ripped my heart open knowing Brandon would never enjoy this with us. It was the first acknowledgment that the rest of my life would be filled with experiences that would always be weighted against Brandon's absence in sharing life with him.
Sam's first day of pre-school became a flashback to Brandon's first day of school. The vivid photo I have of Brandon sitting on the steps of our front porch, head cocked to one side resting in his hand, eyes off to the ground. I now know that every one of Sam's first will include the sting of a flood of memories when my first born did the same things. I am grateful for Sam's unknowing contribution of reviving memories of Brandon I might not otherwise get to enjoy again, however painful they are.
My first day back to work when someone asked me for the first time (yes, two 'firsts' in one day), "How many kids do you have? How old are they?". This line of questioning has become a game of Social Dodgeball for me anytime I am in situations where people try and make small talk. It is the dreaded question of all questions because there is no comfortable answer.
The first time I went to the grocery store and each aisle presented a favorite food of Brandon's that I would never buy again. It's a Mom thing, you know your kids so well, you don't put it on your grocery list you just know that when you hit the aisle with the plastic bowl of Chinese Hot & Spicy Noodles you'll just pick up a few to have on hand. It has been replaced by 'Take 5' bars for Daniel, Mojo bars for Jason and Annie's Mac & Cheese for Sam.
In a strange way I am looking forward to having 365 'firsts' behind me. Nothing will magically change on October 10th, there will still be many 'firsts' that will either be expected or sneak up on me and take me out at the knees. The hardest part of closing the door on the 'firsts' is my fear that Brandon will start to be forgotten. That fear is what reminds me that the best way to keep Brandon alive is to be alive myself, to engage life and to appreciate that life will continue to present 'firsts'. This doesn't always come easy, there are many times with I have to fake it until I make it. The weekend after the 1-year mark I am doing my 'first' half marathon since before Brandon died. Only since August have I been emotionally able to run consistently enough to do this. Each step will be part of my personal passage to build an expanded heart that is able to love more, give more, appreciate more, forgive more and embrace the 'firsts' as they come... and maybe create a few of my own.
