I find myself furious at the world some times.  It is a huge, building fury at the whole world and that I feel this way angers me even more.  I want everyone to know just how precious and significant Rowan’s life was.  Even though I know this is completely irrational…most people will never even know he existed, let alone lived and died and how he lived and died.  BUT.. I want them to know anyway.

Some days I can take in the warmth, understanding, and love that a rare few people give me. They are brave and compassionate people who have no expectations and keep Rowan alive in their hearts, minds, and everyday actions.  Some days, though, it feels like this is never going to be enough.  I will never be okay with this feeling of unfocused anger and fury.  However, just as I am beginning to learn how to live in this world with the loss of Rowan by my side, I am also learning that I would not be fully human if I didn’t feel this anger.

The death of my beautiful son will always be with me like a spear in my side, a wound that will never heal.  It’s hard for anyone who has not experienced a loss of this magnitude to really grasp that I will never heal from this.  The loss and anger will always be a part of me now.  I want the world to acknowledge this as much as I have learned to accept it and still live, love, laugh, and cry.

When I shout and flail against a faceless and uncaring world, I have not given up.  The opposite is true.. For some people out there, extreme anger, grief will always be unacceptable, but for me it is the only acceptable way to live and still be a part of this world.

The only promise I can make is that I won’t stop or hide it, even if it makes you run away.  My grief, loss, anger, and pain are real and in some ways define the core of my life now.  But by expressing them openly, allowing myself to feel them without shame, they can free me to find the moments of peace, love, and togetherness that are still there in my life: my daughter, my wife, and all the vibrant memories and lessons that I have from Rowan.

This morning I wanted to burn down the world for not caring… as I rode to work I felt some of that slip away with the rhythm of my pedals and the burning in my legs.  I saw the sunshine through the trees and remembered how much Rowan loved to be out on a bike with his mum in the sun and the warmth.  My anger had not gone, but it co-existed with a good feeling and a strong memory of love.

In the best of moments, I know that the world will not care the way I need it to… Rowan was my life and always will be.  To others he may only be a passing story before they move onto the next tragedy in the 24-hour news and internet storm.  Loss and grief are intensely personal, and I sometimes can accept that even one person finding a way into that place with me means everything.  I guess  just want everyone to accept that I am not okay, that I never will forgive, forget, or “move on.”

I will be forever changed by the loss of Rowan, and that is normal for such an abnormal thing…

Rowan’s dad