A few weeks ago, my car battery needed to be replaced. After it was all done, I realized that I lost the radio stations that were save by Christopher as his stations in my car. I never listened to any of them, they were saved under FM2, mine were FM1 (after all, it was my car!). I cried when I realized that they were gone. Even though I never gave them a thought, they represented another piece of Christopher that is now lost, almost a new loss.

Then last week, a co-worker, Nancy, suffered from a brain aneurism. On Thursday, the told the family that there was no hope of recovery. I realized, that Nancy had a special place in my heart. She was a wonderful, caring, hardworking, salt-of-the-earth kind of woman. She had also been Christopher’s supervisor when he worked in our office back in 2004-2005. She loved Christopher, but more importantly to me, he knew that Nancy loved him. A few months before his death, Christopher had visited our office and commented to me that he had to be sure to stop in an see Nancy because, she would be upset if she knew he had been there and didn’t see her.

Since his death, Nancy has been one of the few people at work to whom I could speak of Christopher and feel that she understood why I needed to talk of him. The first adoption day after his death, I had a gathering to celebrate this significance in my life and asked that people bring their favorite Christopher story. The Saturday before the gathering, I see this car pull up in front of the house and Nancy got out. I met her in the yard, only to discover that she had the date wrong and had brought her story to me a week early. What a precious story it was and her taking the time to write it down and bring it to me was so very special.

Nancy loved Christopher and he knew it. She has loved me through, saying very little, as well. She passed away Friday night, but I had grieved Thursday, not only for Nancy, but a little more for Christopher because in losing Nancy, I was losing another part of him as well.

I think that the same will be true when I decide to sell the houses we lived in, or the car that I have or finally clean out the garage. It will force me to let go and lose a little more of him. And it will hurt all over again.

A couple of months ago, I wrote about the stuff. That is what the stuff is, it is a part of Christopher and it is a part of me that exists because he was here. So, every time I let some of it go, it tears open the wound of losing him. Maybe that is why it was so easy to deal with the stuff right after his death; the wound hadn’t begun to heal so it didn’t cause new pain to let the stuff go. Now that there is some degree of healing, it is as if I am re-wounded with each little piece of him that I lose.

I have to remember, that I will never completely lose him, because he is a part of who I am. Nobody can take that away. Also, today is Easter. Today I, as I put flowers at his grave, I was reminded of the hope (assurance) that I have. I will see Christopher again. I didn’t lose him, he just went on ahead.