I thought I knew what I would write about today.  But no.  After reading my new friend, Cathy‘s, blog, I’ve decided to write about Sam.  Briefly.

Yesterday was Sam’s birthday.  If he had lived past 5 weeks, he would have been 21 years old.  Over the past 21 years, I’ve struggled to find a way to accept his death and what it has meant for my life, and the life of my family.  Believe it or not, I think I have been somewhat successful because although for a very, very long time, I dreaded the approach of this annual anniversary of his birth, yesterday I had to be reminded by my husband of the date.  He was drying his hair after his shower and said, “Hey — you know what today is?”  I looked at him blankly.  “It’s the 9th.”  At first I thought I would feel bad that I had almost forgotten.  But then I realized, of course, I had not forgotten, would never forget, but that life has moved on.  Sam has his quiet place in my heart regardless of whether I know what day it is or not.  And I think that’s a very good thing.
The other thing I’ve been trying to do, I know, over the past 21 years, is to find a way to give him life, despite his death.  And this is the year it is happening.  “Tangled Roots” is not about Sam, though he is very much in it.  But it is “for” him, and in a few months, it will be something real, that you can pick up and hold in your hands — it may sound silly, but in a real sense to me, by writing my first novel and getting it published, I have created a new life.  For him.  For us both.
So, I think I’ll save what I was going to write about today, for tomorrow.