Weary Days

Dear Brian;
It's now Saturday, and I came back to work for a half day - because I don't think I can just sit around the house with little to do and no one around

Charles from next door brought over a cute flower arrangement and expressed his sorrow, and said how much he enjoyed having conversations with you - and envied how you can fix so many things!  Joe from across the street brought over a deli sandwich so I wouldn't have to cook a meal.

On Weds we made a trip to the funeral home and had to sign all the paperwork, and pick out an urn.  There were many to choose from, but none suited you.  Classic black all the way, with a electric guitar symbol blazoned across the front.   At first, I thought it would be a hard task, but it turns out when it comes to picking out things for you, I know in an instant what you would like.

We made a trip to the library to check things out, then over to Walmart to pick up some supplies for your Celebration of Life, including a couple of picture frame so we could display your tee shirts.  (And by the way, some were NOT suitable!! haha)  I'd see something and turn to ask if you needed a can of chili, some tortillas or Doritos -- but you weren't there with me.  It's going to be hard doing the little things we used to do together.

But then came Friday.  Your dad and the rest of them came up to the house.  First thing he did was get in my face and ask "Why?"  It was all I could do not to roll my eyes, I was trying to be nicer than usual.  He's hurting in a bad way, and I can only guess it's because he didn't have much contact with you in the last couple of years.  Then again, not my problem. 

The sheer mess of stuff that's left to do when someone dies is daunting.  There are so many things now that we didn't have before:  the password to your phone.  Your bills.  Your checking account.  All the paperwork from Home Depot.  By the way, your store manager, George, stopped by.  Told me he was the one who hired you five years ago.  I told him you loved working there -- yeah, yeah, I know, too people-y at times, but still, I know you liked it as much as I like my own retail job. 

If you only realized that the number of people who loved you outweighed all the other things that seemed to weigh you down ... I can't turn back the clock, but I would if I could ! !   Had you said even one little hint, I would have dropped everything, dragged you into the car and headed for family.  Reaching out and/or being your own advocate was never your strength.  In that way, you're a lot like me: if there's a problem, you find a way to solve it by yourself.  Not always the easiest thing, and certainly not the best thing to do, but that's kinda how we roll. 

My lunch break is nearly over, and I wanted to get some thoughts down while I was feeling them. 
Forever in my heart, son.
Love, Mom