Sorrow Rides in Waves

I thought it’d be a good idea to escape to the beach to try and clear my head leading up to the one-year anniversary of losing Connor.  Instead, I was flooded with memories which made it quite difficult to be there.  From the time Connor was little, we went to the beach A LOT. 

From when he a baby and was scared of the sand and he’d cling to me like a monkey.

To the many sandcastles and forts we built. 

To the endless walks along the water just talking. 

To arguing about applying sunscreen. 

To countless games of beach volleyball against random people or just volleying together. 

To throwing the football around.

To jumping the waves.

To searching for the perfect seashell.

We went on a mini family vacation to West Palm Beach one summer.  Connor had to be about 14 at the time.  He’d started working out by this point and was now taller than me, but I thought I was still tougher.  You know the whole “I brought you into this world and I can take you out” syndrome.  Our room wasn’t ready so we decided to walk down to the crystal clear blue water.  What was a simple little shove turned into a full-on wrestling match to see who could get who dunked first.  Well, as you can see in the picture, I lost.   But what I remember most was him laughing.  He thought it was just hysterical that I lost.  I was perfectly fine with it because I knew it would be a memory I’d savor forever.  Little did I know just how much that memory now means.  ∞