Kenny and I, October 1980 (personal collection)
Then the unthinkable happened.
Seventeen years, three months and 30 days ago, Kenny died on Wednesday, February 9th, 2000. He was 19 years, 3 months and 30 days old.
It was unexpected.
There were no final good-bye's or I love you's.
His death shook my world to its very foundations and shattered the windows of my life.
I wasn't sure if I would ever recover from his loss.
I have screamed, I have cried.
I have asked why him? Why our son? Why must our family endure this tragic loss?
I have grudgingly...
- Accepted that I will never have the answers
- Accepted to cope with my grief
- Accepted that whether I like it or not, LIFE does go on
- His smile that was framed with gorgeous dimples
- His laugh
- His voice
- His hugs
- His eyes, so very dark brown like chocolate
- His humor
- The way he always told me he loved me, "Love you, Momma" and with his hand gave me the universal sign for "I love you" in sign language
- The way he teased me for crying when Mr. Spock died in Star Trek: Wrath of Khan
- That my grief ebbs and flows
- That there are good days and bad days
- That he lives on in my heart until the day my heart stops beating
- That he lives on in my son, David
- That he lives on in my grandson, Easton
- That he lives on in our memories
- That he lives on in our hearts
Yes, you our gone from this world but you are NEVER forgotten.
David and Kenny, September 1999 (personal collection)
This is one of the last pictures taken of my sons together. David is on the left and Kenny is on the right. I wrote about Kenny's death in a four part series in 2015 (and reposted them last year) here on my blog. You can find them at these links Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.