The other day a friend suggested I try writing about something else besides Aiden. She thought it might be good for me. I said, “I try, but the pen always returns to him.”
I didn’t take it personally. I know her heart was in the right place. Maybe she thought if I wrote about things other than losing my son I wouldn’t be so sad. Maybe she thought I was dwelling too much on my grief. Maybe in her mind if I didn’t need to write about Aiden it means I’m “better.” Or, maybe it’s just that my story just makes her feel uncomfortable. Like she’s walked in on someone going to the bathroom.
I don’t know what my friend’s motives were, I didn’t ask.
I’ve been making people uncomfortable my whole life. My dad died in a plane crash when I was four and in grammar school when kids talked about their parents and it was my turn, my friends chimed in by saying, “She doesn’t have a dad.” They answered for me so I wouldn’t have to explain the circumstances of my dad’s death. They were protecting me, but also protecting themselves. “Emily doesn’t have a dad” is a lot less scary than, “Emily’s dad died.”
I want things to be different this time.
A few years ago, before Aiden died, I signed the kids up for a reading app called Epic. Every couple of weeks I get an email with recommendations. Aiden was only 6 months old at the time, but I signed him up anyway. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might not ever use it.
I’m not going to delete his account. It’s not like the time I got samples for baby formula eight months after I had a miscarriage. That baby was never meant to fully come to this earth. The emails I get remind me that he was here.
What I’ve learned since Aiden’s death is that if I keep my grief close, if I remember the days he lived from his first to his last, then, when I get book recommendations for my dead son it won’t knock the wind out of me. I might smile, I might click the link and try and imagine what books he might like. I might read a few.
Sometimes I will cry and take a screenshot of the email and send it to a friend who lets me talk about Aiden as much as I want. It’s less scary this way.
This is where I am today. Thank you for listening.
