Wish You Were Here

For the last couple of weeks, I've been spending a lot of time at schools. Many of them high schools. In the months after Sam died, I reflected a little more on teenagers, and how wonderful they (especially Sam's friends) were. After yesterday's conference, I am utterly convinced that we're in pretty good hands. They've really got their heads together (most of them), and I know they will contribute a lot to the world.

But of course while I'm observing all this, I'm aching for Sam, and what he could have been. Sam was already showing signs of social conscience, good skills with money, and even some leadership qualities (he had an ability to bring all sorts of people together, mainly through his acceptance of all kinds of people). Every day I regret that I'll never see his life fulfilled.

Sometimes, it's harder to live without Sam than at other times. It's like the grief (or the feelings of loss) comes in waves. There was the horrible emptiness at the beginning, the absolute disbelief that he was gone. Then, we adjusted to that, and could go on with life a bit. In those times, it was a little easier, because we were busy getting on with things.

But now, it's the enormity of it. That he's never coming back. That he won't be getting his license soon, or heading off to University (I like to think that he would have - science maybe?), or finding his first love...

It's different of course. It's not as crippling as it was in the early days. I can still laugh and work and actually face the world (I didn't leave the house at all for the first few weeks). But it's there, in the background, jumping in every now and again. When I least expect it.

Today's Sam's birthday. Last year, we had a nice day with family and friends. This year, they'll come over again. But I'm not nearly as organised. Anthony is halfway through the kitchen renovations, so there's no oven and lots of mess.

But it will be a nice day, because we'll be thinking of Sam.