The Effects of Retail Therapy

I have not blogged much in the last three months. I would start and then stop. More often than not it would be because a cascade of tears running down my face would overcome me. 

Many thoughts about my son's suicide rush through my mind. I feel overwhelmed. Not a day goes by that I do not think of him. 

I cry at the grocery store. Jon was a big eater and I would fill the cart as if he were still here. It took me by surprise when I looked in the freezer one day. It was full. I then realized that Jon was no longer here to eat the food faster than I could buy it. I cry again.

Every summer I buy an inflatable swimming pool. The pool sits empty in the yard. In previous years Jon frequently filled it. He enjoyed splashing in the water.

As always, I purchased pool toys. When I arrived home I gave the toys to the kids. There was an extra one. I realized that without thinking I automatically bought one for Jon, too. My eyes tear up.

Summer vacation is coming to an end. It is time to begin buying clothes and shoes for the upcoming school year. Someone jokingly told me that I will save money because I am buying for one less person. A set of school pictures will not have to be ordered. I don't care about the money. I would pay anything to have him back.

I choke back tears as they well in my eyes. As I try to hold them back the tears run down my face. The pain will never go away.

Retail therapy. 

Most find joy at the prospect. 

For me it brings sadness.

A Picture Of Too Few Words

A family portrait. I had planned that someday in the future our family would have that special photo. It would be one of those cheesy ones where everyone would wear coordinated outfits; all smiles and perfectly posed.



I wanted a family picture that I would be proud to showcase on a prominent wall in our home. It would be a picture that would be a remembrance that we would cherish forever or something we would laugh about in the future. We would comment on our hairstyles and our choice of clothes. We would talk about how young we looked; how old we are now.

For our family, that picture will never exist. Not by a professional photographer. Not even a candid shot taken by a friend. I wish that we had taken a picture; even if it was imperfect.

I lost my son to suicide. If we take a picture now it would be incomplete. A part of our family would be missing. Jon. 

I urge you to take many family photos. Even if they are far from perfect. In the future you may regret not having a memento from the past.

A picture can be worth a thousand words. A missing picture can be worth much more.