We survived the long holiday weekend without Adam. Betsy paid tribute to him before Easter dinner last night with a baked potato (he would not tolerate au gratin potatoes) and a Peep for each of us. It was one among several tearful moments that happened as we forge on.
The topic of our last time together at Christmas came up. Eli's perception was that Adam slept a lot, though that could be said of most of his visits. I couldn't remember a single conversation or interaction. Pat asked directly about Bella and received a seemingly honest answer. Tara thought he looked unwell in the family pictures. Cal took Adam's last notes to his room to view on his own. As I was looking for a photo of Ethan, Cal, Eli and Adam together for a Cousins picture frame for Betsy, I found one of them plus Hannah, and Adam looked positively ghostly, I now sadly reflect. There is no way anyone is putting that in a frame. I wonder what was going through his mind less than a month before he ended his life. Reading his last words scribbled on notebook paper in January adds to the mystery, but it is good, too, as T. reminded me. We have something. I know he was contemplating getting help as much as anything else, and he was trying to work it out through writing.
It strikes me that his suicide has been much harder on Adam's younger family and friends. While I haven't experienced a major death, let alone suicide, I have more life experience and perspective to draw on. The younger generation are experiencing this at a time when their own development is still emerging. I see Ethan as more subdued and introspective than I have ever seen him. While it of course shapes all of our lives, this event will impact my nieces and nephews and friends of Adam for many more years than mine. I can't imagine how huge this is for them. My heart aches for their sadness and confusion.
I am left to ponder what Mother's Day and Adam's birthday will be like. One thing is most likely, I will keep writing.