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I’ve learned that moving on might be easy for some people but in my case it is almost impossible. In 2002 my son died he was hit by a car as a pedestrian. He was twenty-nine years old. He had four children all girls by two women. Two of his children were living with me because they were taken from their mom because of her drug use. The two I had were identical twins. The other two were older and live with their mom(and still do). My son married her in 1992 and they were together until 1999. Then he met the mother of the twins and had children by her.

Every day when I look at my two beautiful twin girls I see my son. Every time I see all four of my grandchildren together I can swear I hear my son’s laughter and see his smile at his beautiful children. My son loved his children and he was so proud of them. I get so angry at people who try to tell me I need to stop thinking of him. That I need to stop telling his children about him. They even try to tell me I need to take down his pictures and throw away the few trickets I kept of his. If moving on means to forget he existed then I guess I will never be moving on.

I love to listen to his music and the weird thing is before he died, I liked very little of it. I wished I’d listened a little more intense while he was alive I would have known him better. He liked songs that related to something in his life. I remember one song was about a baby coming into this world and would he be ready to be a parent. Music was his outlet and I guess the way he expressed his feelings sometimes. The really weird thing about his music was his favorite had a video out called “Someday”  by Nickelback and the guy in the video bore so many identical features to my son it was uncanny. The strangest thing at the end of the video it shows the newspaper ad “Man dies in bridge accident” and my son died on a bridge.  The night he died he was listening to Ozzy Osborne , how weird is that. He had earphones on that is why he never heard the car that struck him going 60 miles an hour.

I just want to tell people that moving on means forgetting someone. I don’t want to forget my son. I loved him with all my heart. Because he is dead doesn’t mean I stopped loving him. I still think of him every night when I go to bed and he is the first thing I think of every morning when I open my eyes. The fact that he has been dead for several years doesn’t change that. His children have went from babies to beautiful young ladies and every time they smile I see him smiling through them. I occasionally look at his picture and say thank you for the gifts you left behind. I thank God every day that I got to spend twenty-nine years with my son, and my son still lives through his daughters.

If moving on means giving up on a memory then you move on by yourself. I choose to hang on to my memories because as long as there are memories my son still exists.