A Mother's Love

Not a day passes that I am not reminded of my son, or think of something I want to tell him, or ask him to do for me.  It hurts like hell.

I get busy and go to work, and the day passes.

I come home and walk Sadie, make supper, and head for bed, and the evening passes.

Repeat these steps. 
Over and over.

It makes the time pass, but it doesn't change what's inside.
Most of the time, its just the pain of losing someone.
Sometimes, it's not wanting to do all of these things alone.
And every now and then, it's full on anger.

I raised an awesome son.  He was always willing to do whatever needed to be done, and sometimes would do things that didn't need doing.  He did them any way.  In that way, he was a lot like my father.  He might not have said the words, but his actions said "I love you" with everything in him.

I watched my son's attitude and demeanor diminish over time as he tried living life with another family.  Good-hearted people often get taken advantage of by others who aren't as good-hearted as themselves.  In my own "theory of life" there are givers and there are takers.  Givers give of themselves at every turn, and have a hard time believing that others don't think like they do.  Takers do what they can, take what they need, to fill whatever void they're trying to fill.  And they're smart enough to know how to take advantage of those givers who cross their paths.   My son's downfall was his pride; he hated to admit that things weren't going well, so he stayed.   In that way, he's like his mother. 

When I was married, it wasn't working; neither of us was growing, it was more existing.  But back then, you stayed married "for the kids".  I was so prideful, that I couldn't admit that it wasn't going well, that things were falling apart, so we went from day to day to day ......   In the end that just didn't work and we divorced.  Telling my parents was the hardest thing ever.  I was sure I would be "judged".   But just like I would have told my son, my parents told me that they loved me, and would support me in any decision I made. 

Which brings up the recurring theme of "if only's..."

I can't do it over again, and I can't change what's been.

I can only keep on going, and keep remembering all the good.

No matter his choice, I loved my son then, and love him still.

Good Will

Dear Brian,

Yesterday I went through all the boxes of your things we'd put in the garage. I wanted to make sure that I wasn't getting rid of anything that I felt was important to keep.  Now that there's been some space and time since you died, my perspective is a little better.  But we'd done a good job of keeping things, and knowing what didn't need to keep.  A lot of your shoes and clothing was boxed, along with the one lone golf club and your microphone stand.  Neither I nor Tanya would be using it, or wanting it.  I know I certainly wouldn't be playing in a band and singing for folks!!  (Ha!)

After I'd gone through them again, I left them sitting in the garage.  About two hours later, I was like "What am I waiting for?  Why am I waiting?" and went into the garage and loaded up one trunk full.  Today, I dropped it off at the Goodwill store.  I'm sure there will be people who need or can use some of your things.  No sense in letting them just sit here and do nothing. 

But it wasn't easy.

My fear was always that you'd be forgotten ... and parting with your things means less of "you" is here.  And it hurts.  There's a huge hole in my heart, in my being, that used to be occupied by you.

Sometimes it's just a small ache.  Sometimes it hurts so much I get a belly ache. 

I thought it would soothe a few of the raw places by taking a trip to Grandma's, but that was very difficult.  Mostly because you and I traveled there often, together. 

Each day goes by and I can get lost in being busy.
But once I finish with *stuff*, and I'm alone with my thoughts,
it gets difficult once again.

The one question I ask over and over is "Why couldn't you stay??"

I miss you very much.
Love, Mom