In All Things . . .

I would rather have the pain of missing my son in my life, than to never have had him at all.  My life would not be what it is were it not for my children.

They humble me with their examples of how to live, accept others, their bravery and unwavering sense of right.  They have been the best friends to their friends. My children are loyal. I am not bragging.  I am telling you the truth.

Somehow despite me, they became whole and rounded people.  I hope our attempts at unconditional love gave them space to grow as they did.  I cannot take credit for anything however, but I am an ardent admirer.

They are generous to a fault.

They do not try to appease everyone and in the face of difficult people they stand their ground.  There is a deeply seated sense of right, which will not be compromised.   I appreciate that in them.   It makes for pain sometimes, and people who suffer from entitlement often have difficulty with my children.   Sensible when it is necessary and absolutely silly when necessary too.

My children have the ability to empathize.  Subtle nuances are not lost on them.  Their ability to translate this is seen in their writing and music.

Handsome in form, downright beautiful for the most part they grace this world with the adoration of their parents backlighting them.   We have loved well.  No time was wasted on them – it was all an investment that has had an incredible return.

That our son had to exit this life when he did has no explanation.  Not from anyone anywhere.  It was not a punishment, or something inflicted by a god.  God did not have him on a checklist and lick his pencil to mark the box.  No- there is no explanation.  That is the uncomfortable part.

It is the grit in my shell.  I rub against it every day and sometimes it probably is a source of my sorrow and tears.   Am I oyster enough to allow it to become a pearl?

Time will tell if time there is for me.

One habit I have, is that when I am somewhere, noticing something I like, I tend to think somehow erroneously that my loved ones (those still living) can see it too.  I notice when in describing it, or mentioning it, they get that puzzled look on their face.  I forget that they were not there.  In my mind they were.

It is like that with my son now.  I think that he is there, seeing and experiencing the things I see.  It is because I want him there, perhaps.  The cell phone made a difference in that whole process for everyone.  We take a picture now and send it off to share.  The imagined has come to fruition.

I cannot speak about my children’s connection with me from their point of view obviously.  I was going to say I think  but I know it was and is different than the connection I had with my own mother.

I remember worrying about people who said that their work was their life, or their art was their life. For some it is how they look and think they are perceived by the world.  My family has been my life.   My husband and my children.   They are a source of joy.

My family includes so many people these days.  The truest of family – biological and spiritual.  They all miss my son too, and have provided me and my husband and  daughter a safe place to grieve.

The physical person, our son, my daughter’s brother we miss so much.  There have never in all time been enough words spoken that can sum up the vastness of this kind of loss.   A friend of mine told me that “God loves your son more than you do.”

I took umbrage at that at first, but I allowed it to stew around a bit and I have decided I sincerely hope that is true.  Because if indeed God loves my son more than I do- then it is unimaginable – and though I envy God in this scenario – if that much love exists then there is hope.  Hope for me too.

There has been so much ugliness in the news.  People are desperate.  I think part of the prevailing sorrow is from the spirit of sorrow and hopelessness that we are bombarded with on the news.

Turning off the news won’t make it go away, but maybe for awhile, I will turn it off. I think I will turn to those around me, who are also in need and try a little every day to meet those needs that I can.  I cannot change the world, but I can change how I treat my neighbor.

The part of me that belongs to my family is the largest part of me, but the gifts they have given me I can continue to share.   Thank you my sweet daughter for loving me and  showing me what tenacity looks like.   Thank you my sweet loving husband for trusting me and encouraging me to grow as you have for the past 35 years.  To my son, what can I say? Thank you for letting me share your life.  In all things I have been truly blessed.

About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Death, Faith, Family, Friends, Holidays, Marraige and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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