New normal blows

I went to the grocery store near my house today. Small potatoes to you. Monumental feat of pain and endurance to me.

The very few times since Damon was ripped from my life that I have ventured into a grocery store I drove across town to the one that is unfamiliar, the one that my child never giggled and ate cookies and lived life in. I honestly think I’ve been to the grocery store a maximum of five times since my baby died. Memories… people… sights… sounds… ugh. It’s too much. I jump every time one of those women trying to sell me laundry detergent or shampoo shouts from a television hidden in an end cap. It’s freaking unnerving.  I’ve never gone with Isaiah… it’s like having half of a whole that just points to the missing piece.

Today I picked Isaiah up from school and, knowing that tomorrow he will have surgery and be down and out for days, set my sights on the store. Roughly a million times I started to turn back but I went. Isaiah and I walked in and got a cart. He climbed onto the end and talked happily. I stared at the empty child seat in front of me. I stared at the bakery where we used to always go first to get each of the boys a cookie before diving into the chaos that is shopping. Ugh… this sucks people. I hurt! I don’t want ‘new normal.’ New normal freaking blows. I want old normal back.

But I survived. I actually did one better than survive. I talked with my first born in that easy language of familiarity that I thought was innate, until it became impossible. I didn’t have to stifle a scream. I didn’t burn with impatience. As we passed the baby section the panic and pain rose in my throat and threatened to strangle me but Isaiah’s easy conversation drew me back from the ledge. Unlike what has become so familiar, closing vision, raging pulse, choking breath, I managed.

It wasn’t good. It didn’t feel good. I wonder if I will ever be able to describe life that way again.

My big accomplishment is spending thirty minutes in a grocery store without having a panic attack. Six months ago I balanced my life and the lives of all my guys. I want old normal back. I miss my son. This sucks.