As Long As I Remember, He'll Always Be Here

I met with my therapist yesterday.  I still felt numb but over the years I've learned the value of keeping therapy appointments and not canceling them.  I would cancel them because the numbness I was feeling would suddenly burst forth at the thought of sitting in an office, door shut, their eyes on me, waiting for me to say something.

I've faked illness to avoid showing sadness because I couldn't stop crying
I've faked illness to avoid showing fear because at that time I didn't have the tools to bring myself to a safe person or apply the tools to keep myself safe.
I've walked out of therapy sessions when I've felt overwhelmed or my thoughts are racing and I can't get control of them.
I've walked out of therapy sessions when I feel hurt by something she says and instead of talking to her, she just keeps on talking so I tell her I'm leaving.  Then I take a break, cancel all future appointments and remind myself that I am in control of who and how often I see them.

I no longer fake my illness.
I no longer walk out of sessions.
I search inside myself when asked a question.
I talk about my hurts for as long as need to.

I speak up if there's a misunderstanding.
I listen to new ideas and exercises.
I make sure I am kind when in distress.
I bring anything I've worked on, like this blog.

It was hard to talk but I drove to therapy.  I was asked how I was feeling - sad.  Then I talked about the gift I received on Sunday. Sunday I was able to tell the entire story of the last week with Aaron plus all the other details. to my friend.  I hadn't done that in a long, long time if ever. Yesterday, I was having the feelings of sadness and tender.  For myself, my family and Aaron's family.

I remember Aaron in two sets of clothes that week:
Same person, different clothes.
One in a hospital gown, his Spirit and body are here.
One in a hospital gown, his Spirit is gone, his body is here.
One in a long sleeve black shirt, black pants and neon green neck tie.
His Spirit gone but his body is here.
He was cremated.
His Spirit gone, his body now ashes, the two urns at each parents home.

My Aaron.
My tall and strong,
Bright blue eyes,
Running at me for hugs,
Creative ingenuity (exploding plastic pop bottles),
Helper to Tina, Grandma and the Aunties (Amy & Tracy),
Monopoly player with me and his brothers,
Horror movies,
Trying to rebuild a TransAm with Dad,
Going to 4-H with the family,
Loving his mom,
Taking girlfriend Alex to all dances,
Wrestling with oldest brother, Joe
Walking the neighborhood with younger brother, Jonny,
Bouncing on trampoline with youngest brother, Ryan,
Hunting for eggs on Easter 2008 with sisters Hope, Sammi and Alicia.

Still Grieving Aaron

I've wanted to tell her about Aaron since last week but I believed an old lie from another time in my life.  I decided, if she had the time, I would tell her.  Turns out she did.

After listening to me tell her the entire week of Aaron in the hospital six years ago, God prompting me to baptize him, being asked to sit with him by his mom until it was time for him to die, announcing to Aaron's mom and dad that it was time, sitting in the room with his parents, brother and other aunts and uncles when he passed away, the details of the funeral and the days that followed, I shared that I've never cried.

Not when placed my hands on his forehead and heart the first night.
Not when I found out his death was eminent.
Not when I baptized him.
Not when I sat in his room and people asked how he was.
Not when we surrounded him and he died.
Not at the funeral.
Not when I was alone at home.
Not on any of the anniversaries.
I haven't cried.

It was a long story.  Instead of saying something quickly and rushing off, she took my hands in hers and we were eyeball to eyeball.  She said, "Maybe you don't need to grieve so much because you brought him into restoration with God.  God gave you that assignment and the one to sit in his room, watching over him, then getting everyone when his heartbeat started going down.  You were able to hear the Holy Spirit and do what was being asked of you."

I never think of obedience as a reason for God removing pain.

I still might be blocking some grief because I sink into a deep depression a few days before that week begins and days after.  Truth be told, I'm still in it.  Sleeping a lot.  Saw my psych and he made an adjustment.  He was trying to get me to laugh but I wasn't finding anything funny.  I wasn't angry - just not in a funny mood.

This is the t-shirt I made while the Alateens were at the hospital.  Like I said before, I needed to be with my own people.

Thanks for listening.

My Writings and Some Videos of Aaron Michael Hunt

When someone you loved dies, it's hard to move forward with preparations for the final day you will ever see them again.  These are the words I penned for those experiences plus the days and years that followed.


Click to read: The Days After Aaron's Death


Click to read: Aaron's Death by 2015


Click to read: Aaron's Anniversary Years


Aaron Michael Hunt Put To Rest