My daughters have their own lives. I seem to be almost out of date or something. They continue to create their adulthood, for the most part without me. Not that they don't love me. They just don't seem to need me much. I feel like I am in the way and annoying sometimes.
My grandchildren will carry on and almost remember me kind of, if I were gone, snipits and giggles maybe of silly times we had or times in the garden, like we all do. But I am not sure it would have a devasting effect on their lives either.
The sun would continue to shine , the moon would rise.
I lay on my bed sometimes thinking, "please God take me home to be with him. " "Please take me home. I just want to see his face and feel his hug and hear his voice again. I just want to make sure as he would say "we're all good momma dukes".
Why did I treat everyday with him like everyday would always be there? Why didn't I fully experience every juicy moment with him when all he wanted was me and my full attention? Why did I get so angry with him just being a boy? The whys and why nots, the if and if only's.. little words cripple me now.
Years before he died I could not even talk out loud and finish the sentence, "if something ever happened to one of my children..... I, I , I can't even say it," I would say.
Now my biggest fear realized, I am left to create a new world that does not include my sweet boy. How will I fill it . what will I do with the love that was meant for his lifetime? I am not afraid of much, not the dark, not dangerous places , I just am not. I am not afraid of anything that could hurt me more than this.
He used to crawl in bed with me every morning before school, even when he was a teenager. He would have these long, cold, clammy toes and wrap his long legs around me almost to annoy me and I would yell at him to take his feet off me. He would say "nooooooo, don't you know you are toast mother?" You are always warm and toasty and I come to you for warmth."
When he was small, I would slowly turn and look deep into his eyes and put on a blank scary face and say in return....with a deep voice...."I am not toast mother....I ....AM....ZOMBIE MOTHER"....and we would wrestle and laugh and play until we both felt that relief that only laughter and joy bring at the end as a special added bonus. Oh to feel that sigh that speaks volumes of stress that just melted away and brought everything into perspective and love to the forfront where it belongs.
One thing for sure, this experience has left me fearless in some ways. What could hurt me more than this loss? I am much less attached. What do I own that could take his place? I am stronger. I believe I am courageous in some ways, trying to make it through the day without crying or aching or wishing I was there with him.
There are times I want to dig up the dirt with my bear hands and climb into his grave and just be....toast mother for eternity.