The Other Side of December

Hello, all. I write to you from “the other side.”

My son Cooper was born on October 24th, 1982 and died six weeks later the night of December 8th, following complications from surgery to repair a congenital heart defect. His death was sudden and unexpected. Many of you know his story. For those who don’t and wish to know more, you can read about it here.

Each year, during those weeks from October to December, I carry a sort of low-level thrum in my gut, aware in some cellular way that while I go about my daily business I am also marking my son’s brief time on this planet. I’ve learned over the years to lean into this quasi-vigil and accept that I will be more tired during this time, I will find it harder to concentrate, my sleep patterns will be interrupted, and I’m easily saddened, easily irritated.

The death of a loved one reverberates through the years. Yesterday marked forty years since Cooper died, and yet much of that awful event remains all too fresh, my body literally carrying forward the shock and trauma of that night.

This is all to say, I have wished to be more regular in my communications to you, but during these weeks I sometimes struggle to complete tasks. I’ve learned to reach out for support, and that has made the pain of this brief autumnal journey more bearable.

Anniversary grief is very real. It seems especially painful around the Holidays. We are heavily marketed to with images of joy and peace, of bright lights and happy families, and yet for many it is also time of emptiness and grief. So please be kind to one another. We never fully know the sorrows people are carrying.

And now…I am on the other side.

Chapter Thirteen of Dead Ringer drops Monday.