Today is the 13th anniversary of Curtis's passing out of this life. For a long time I thought of this day as his death day, the day he was stolen from us for no good reason, and I anticipated its annual arrival with a sense of dread and foreboding. The numbing sorrow, anger, and pain I felt during all the rest of the year was magnified a thousand times during these horrible days in February. I especially remember how on the first anniversary in 2002, there must have been well over a hundred people come by the house to remember and honor him and show their love and support to us. We had two barbecues going cooking up hot dogs for everyone. We had a fire going in the fire pit. For several hours people shared with us again their memories of Curtis and how he had so positively impacted their lives. It was wonderful to hear such touching things about our son, but I was not yet in a place where I could fully appreciate them. I had not yet completely accepted that my son was gone forever. I could not yet accept that there could possibly be anything good come out of this situation. I could not yet believe I could even survive something like this, let alone find anything truly positive about it.
As the years have come and gone, however, I've noticed a change in myself in how I feel about things during this time of the year. I can't pinpoint any particular time when it happened, but gradually I became aware that enormous healing has taken place in my life. As I sit here today, on the 13th anniversary, looking down the street from our front porch at a block so different from what it was 13 years ago, I realize that I no longer feel the gut-wrenching, debilitating, frightening pain that marked the first few anniversaries. While February 15th will never be "just another day", I'm now able to more clearly appreciate the wonderful things that have taken place in our lives since Curtis left us. Don't misunderstand me. I still tremendously, and on some days, desperately miss my son. I still question why he had to die so young. I still often wonder what his life would be like today. I wonder what great things he would have accomplished by now. When I get to Heaven I still expect God to have some good answers to my questions. I still have moments of anger that my family had to suffer such an agonizing loss.
But I also can focus more now on the 14 years that were given to us to be Curtis's parents. We were not perfect parents, nor was Curtis a perfect child. When I think of his time with us I'm able to remember the entire package, good and not so good. I can revel in the wonderful things about him and take joy in all the memories of his life with us. I can also now more completely appreciate the positive impact he had on so many people's lives. From time to time even today, we still are hearing new stories about the positive legacy he left behind. The Curtis Workman Hoops Classic Basketball Tournament at Southridge Middle School is still going strong after all these years, as is the Curtis Ethan Workman Memorial Scholarship at Ontario High School. At least two of Curtis's friends have honored his memory by giving their sons his name as part of their names. Most touching of all, perhaps, is that so many of his friends and family still remember this day after all these years. It means so much to us that Curtis's life and legacy live on in the lives of so many people he touched. I will never be glad my son was taken from us, and February 15th will never be an ordinary day, but I no longer think of it as a day of death. I can rest in the knowledge that, in a very real way, he is with us still. I love you, Curtis, always and forever.
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