As I went back and reread this post, I clearly see I did little to hide my anger. I considered revising, but that would not be true to the “real and raw” approach you all seem to appreciate (or, at least tolerate). No getting away from it, today is painful. Very painful.
Do the Math
It is exactly one-and-a-half years. That’s 548 Days. Or 13,152 hours. For me, I have lived in the moment 789,120 times. Austin Vantrease, Jonathan May, and their families had 47,347,200 opportunities (seconds) to at least do one thing right.
Ryan has missed so much in this time. More frequently I catch myself talking to him about things he hasn’t experienced since the beating. It’s like a time warp for me, adjusting to the past… as the present he knows. For him, it’s still the year 2009. The world moves on without him, dragging me and my family in its wake. Time is such an uncaring, selfish, insensitive bitch.
For us, we had to make decisions no person should be asked. EVER! Life or death choices with often no information; relying on instinct. Decisions that doctors were afraid or unwilling to make. Even those choices we made in the early hours after the attack haunt me to this day. Did we do right by Ryan? It is a very real possibility that I will go to my grave tormented by this.
Relationships have been both forged, strengthened, and shattered. The most unexpected people have unselfishly come to our rescue, asking nothing in return. Others learned there is no birthright entitlement. I’m forced to make no differentiation among relationships other than removing (or, at least, containing) those with distractions and embracing those that help. This is not to say I love less or it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it hurts to the core. Still, it doesn’t change anything. Not one iota. My promise to my son is unwavering.
I can only hope there will be time — down the road — to make it right. But, remember, in the end, time is never an ally. It’s a bitch.
Worth Another Look?
Four months ago I wrote, perhaps, my best accounting of how the 7th of each month feels. If you have a chance to read it again, just click here.