Stop. Please.

9/11/01 The day my son was diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma.

Without even looking at the calendar or the clock, the day hits me like a brick. I had no idea what time it was when the phone rang a few minutes ago. I did know that my head had shifted, like someone threw a switch. *click* Yes, woe to the gf who just called. The diagnosis meeting was at 2pm. My heart knew it. The flashbacks in my head knew it.

Today is a day filled with flashes of a moment in time that changed my life's path forever. I can't help it.

Today I mourn the blissfull knowledgelessness I had about lymphoma and a multitude of chemotherapy drugs. I mourn for the loss of the child with mild learning issues and effective coping strategies. I mourn the guilt-free days when I didn't worry about whether the choices I made effected my son's ability to be a father. I mourn the mother-filled days BOTH my children shared. I mourn being a mom who thinks not being hungry is just a phase, or due to eating too much junk food. I mourn having a child that coughs or vomits or gets an infection - without thinking the "C" word. I mourn the loss of my cancer-depression-free son and so many things that changed, beginning today, 9 years ago.

So Stop. Please.

Stop telling me to cheer up and be grateful. (I AM) Stop telling me to celebrate his remission. (That has it's own date - and do you honestly think I DON'T?! )

It hurts my heart more deeply than I can express that I can't seem to share my sadness and grief with my friends and family without being told that my emotions are "wrong" or should somehow be different.

And for God's sake...
Please stop the flashbacks.