It’s a routine question the hostess at the restaurant asks, “How many in your party?"
I wasn’t ready for it.
Or should I say I wasn’t ready for a different answer. The answer is supposed to be four.
The first time it happened I took a huge gulp as I held back
the tears. “Three,” I barely managed to
get out of my mouth. This would be the
first of many painful firsts…
The first time I looked in the empty backseat and saw the outline of Jenson’s
old car seat.
The first time we sat down at our kitchen table and Jenson’s seat was empty.
The first time an unsuspecting stranger asked, “How many
kids do you have?”
The first time I walked in Jenson’s room knowing I would be
leaving it without him in my arms.
The first Christmas spent without the full
family.
When you lose someone you love, you’re rarely prepared for
the onslaught of firsts that hit. They
roll-in like a hail storm and pelt you with balls of ice.
Firsts will always be there in life. We have to face the freeze of them to move forward.
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