One of the ways I’ve kept reasonably sane over the past two months is my use of social media to express my feelings.  Everyone seems to have an opinion on grief, and most of those opinions share a common thread that the griever should talk about his/her pain and loss.  Admittedly, talking about my loss with others does have a somewhat soothing effect. so, when the mood hits me, I talk–or type–through social media.

Since Micah passed, I’ve definitely had my good days, bad days, and days that I just did not want to get out of bed.  Today started as a bad day–I woke up this morning all shook up from a powerful dream.  For the first time since I lost my son, I remember dreaming about him.

Now, I should note that this is unusual for a couple reasons.  First off, I very rarely remember my dreams.  I’ve been told that I undoubted have dreams–they’re a part of REM sleep and all that.  However, for whatever reason, I almost never wake up able to tell anyone what I dreamed about.  Maybe my dreams are all so abstract that my waking mind doesn’t know what to make of them.  Perhaps they are so tranquil that the mere memory of them would put me back to sleep.  Whatever the case may be, it’s rare that I wake up and remember what I was dreaming.  Back to last night’s dream..

I don’t remember a lot of what I dreamed–just that it involved waking up and having Micah sitting next to me.  I remember him acting as though he had no idea what had taken place eight weeks ago–like he just woke up from a dream that he did not remember either.  He spoke to me as though he was a little scared, but happy to be talking to me.  What did he say?  That I don’t remember–all I recall is the “feeling” of him talking to me.

I woke up from this dream understandably spooked.  I tried to close my eyes and reenter the dream–to again see and talk to my son, but the dream was gone, as dreams often disappear once you see first morning light.  I knew today was going to be one of those days where I would not be able to get Micah off my mind.  Every picture I saw froze me for a moment, staring longingly into his eyes.  Every email I read brought up some memory of something Micah said, did, wanted, desired, or just simply talked to me about.  Sitting at my desk at work, I found myself just tearing up without thinking directly about anything Micah-related.

After dropping by my daughter’s school to see her Ancient Greece Wax Museum project, I remembered that tonight was the Spring Choir Concert at Micah’s high school.  (Even though Micah is no longer here, I have still remained dedicated to those activities that Micah truly loved–choir and hockey.)  I had told the choir director that I would be at the concert to shoot video and get some audio recordings.  Like the other couple choir activities that I have helped with since Micah’s passing, I knew this could be a rocky night.  I was right.

As I stood at the back of the auditorium, watching and listening as the Advanced Vocal choir performed their jazz set, I could not take my eyes off the microphone still sitting on the stand–the lone microphone on the right-hand side of the stage–Micah’s microphone.  The choir sounded fabulous, as they always do, but the sound was still missing a tenor.  My tenor.  On several occasions as the concert proceeded, I found myself on the verge of tears–or in tears–letting the music wash over and soothe me, but at the same time having it find that hole in my heart…

We stopped at Freddy’s on the way home to get some ice cream and help the choir fundraiser in the process.  As we waited for our order, I looked over at my wife and told her that I knew this pain would never go away.  Nothing I do, nothing I say, nothing at all will bring Micah back, and as a result, nothing will ever fill that hole.  She just held my hand and without speaking told me she knew–she understood.

Now I sit at my computer needing to get this all out–needing to journal and write whatever comes to my mind and my fingertips.  I almost put up a large post on Facebook, but decided that I don’t want to seem like I’m begging for attention by inundating people there with my melancholy thoughts.  I then remembered that I had set up this blog years ago to ramble about my latest techno obsessions.  While I still may do that–just because it gives me something to do in these moments, and–let’s face it–I like writing about my tech thoughts, my Cubs/baseball thoughts, and maybe now some youth hockey thoughts, this gives me an unobtrusive place to write about my grief and pain.  People can click through the link on my Facebook page and read it and reply, if they like, or they can just pass it by.


Thanks for reading the ramblings of a grieving father,

David – the Technobabble1