Six months come and gone

Six months ago today I stood at the ballpark with my parents waiting for word from Mobile, waiting on the phone call that would tell us that Kathryn, Ben and Harry had said goodbye to Kyser. Today I'll be back at the ballpark for more games, treading that same sidewalk on the same kind of beautiful day, and I can't wrap my mind around the fact that six months have elapsed since Kyser died.

I don't know if I'm more surprised that it's ALREADY been six months or that it's ONLY been six months. I've sort of felt that way every day since it happened. Sometimes it seems like it was just a few days ago that I got the shocking wake-up phone call from my parents, and some days it feels like it was an eternity ago. Regardless, the wound hasn't healed. The pain is still fresh.

What I can say with certainty is that in those six months' worth of days, there hasn't been a single waking hour that Kyser and/or Kathryn, Ben and Harry haven't been in my thoughts. I think of Kyser at totally unexpected times with no apparent triggers for the memory, as well as the ones that are more obvious -- any mention of Mobile, Vanderbilt, holidays, hunting, fishing, driving by any Chevron gas station, seeing any piece of pottery -- and most of the time my throat still gets tight and I struggle not to cry.

I can't think of the dignity of his life and without realizing what an antithesis it was to the indignity of the manner of his death. I can't bring to mind the smile that was ever-present on his face and somehow reconcile it with the fear and trepidation that replaced it in his final moments on Earth. I can't recount how much he had already accomplished in his short life without mourning all he had yet to do. I can't relive the hours upon hours that I spent playing with him and Harry when they were young without grieving the fact that I'll never get to meet the children he might have had.

I know I need to get over all of the bad stuff and just try to remember the good, especially since his four alleged killers are behind bars, awaiting trial. My head knows that it doesn't serve any purpose to get bogged down in the tragedy instead of rejoicing in the glory that was Kyser's life and his now-everlasting life -- but my heart has a harder time getting past all of the gruesome facts. And if it remains this hard for me, how much harder is it, day upon day, for Kathryn, Ben and Harry? Please keep them in thought and prayer.

Six months today. How long will it take?