After I purchase something or end a phone conversation I hear the words “Have a nice day”. Many assume that every day is a nice day.
Such a common saying, given by so many people who do not know the pain that I am enduring, brings tears to my eyes. Can’t you see? Don’t you know that I lost my son? Are you blind? How can I have a nice day?
Why is it that every statement has a new meaning now? An ordinary statement that I heard many times before and that made me thank the person who spoke it, now sets me off. Grief hits me so suddenly and there is no grief like this grief. All the pain and uncertainty are ignited with an ordinary statement.
A nice day is a day that includes my son. It was a day when my world lit up as I looked at his beautiful face and heard him call me “mom’. Before he died a nice day was a day when the sun shone, the flowers bloomed, the birds sang and the breeze rustled softly through the trees. Beautiful things of the world now are so painful because David cannot share them with me. I hope that one day I can contemplate beauty again.
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