It’s been two years since we lost our Pokey. I don’t care what anyone says about time healing or it gets better in time, fact is it doesn’t. If anything it gets harder. As I watch his friends get married and start families I am happy for them but I mourn one more thing my son will never get to do. As life goes on in our family and we all live this new normal I want him here to share moments. Moments like his sister going to winter formal. His brother winning College track championships. And seeing that his youngest brother is starting to read. All the Big moments and milestones, but also the little ones, like when I try a new recipe and wonder if he would like it.
I can’t help but go back to the conversations we had in the days before he was killed. Mostly I remember how tired he was. I remember him telling me about a father and son who had been hit by and EFP by the “soulless bastards”. He was so upset by that. “They were just going to work mom. No one deserves what happened to them for just going to work. That kid was no more than 12.” He never said but I think he knew them from patrolling in the town. The other guys won’t talk about that incident except to say it was bad.. really bad. Not sure why that tale sticks with me. Maybe because it was so similar to what happened to Micheal. Maybe because that was the first time I had heard of an EFP and knew it was something he feared. Maybe because I could hear his frustration with humanity when he talked about it. He was too young to see such ugliness. In fact I told him that. He told me “No one was old enough to have to see this shit.”
When I find myself in those memories I try to put them away and focus on times when he was home and being so very Pokey. Setting off fireworks in the backyard the day we moved into this house. I told him if the cops showed up he was answering the door… sure enough the cops were called by one of our new neighbors. And I laughed as I told him the door was for him. The little shit talked his way out of the ticket. He told them he was visiting from Tennessee and didn’t know it was illegal to set off fireworks and stopped when I told him. He had lived here most of his life but he forgot that part when talking to the cops. I suppose that he still had on his ACU pants and dogtags on helped. And of course his charming irresistible grin. His smile made you want to become his best friend instantly. I miss that smile.
It’s been two years since you were taken from us Micheal and I still miss you.