Too Late Now

No kidding. When I first saw him I knew that he was going to change my life. I had no idea how, but I knew he would, that was February 2001.
December 2003 I gave birth to our son.
That was the day that he officially fell in love with me, and for the first time in thirty years, he was happy. Can you believe that? He’d never known happiness in three decades of “living”.
Witnessing the intensity of labor,
nearly losing consciousness as the epidural was being given,
watching the debut of our son,
cutting the umbilical cord and learning that our baby will indeed be his namesake,
collectively, that allowed him to finally know what it felt like to be happy. If only momentarily and in spurts over the next eight years, he’d finally have his own personal stories of happiness to reflect upon.

Our son would be his first and only (biological) child.
He and I would be the reasons why love and happiness were able to exist in such a damage, hurt and overly guarded space.
For that, we’re eternally grateful.

Many conversations were exchanged between he and I about love and happiness, from the time our son was born up until four days before he perished.
It’s obvious to everyone who knows us, that I loved him from early on and he loved me and our child up until the very end.
A rather unique situation for me. One that I’m sure I’ll never have again.

Last words to me: I’ll always love you for what you’ve given me…
Last words to our son: Always remember your daddy loves you. Alright? Love ya’ boy!

I’ve had  six months to assess, reassess and asses all over again, the relationship that he and I had. It’s completely clear how he changed my life.
I’m able to confirm that I’ve never had any love for anyone (outside of my children, of course!) other than him.
That was the first and only time that I’ve loved someone.

But what good are my words and acknowledging these truths, when he’s not here to hear them?
It’s too late now.

 

Grieving Anew….

I’m not big on death. Who is, huh?

I don’t deal with death at all. I ignore it and keep on. I refuse to give much energy to it. I don’t go view bodies. I don’t go to funerals. I don’t sit around mourning (at least not for very long). Usually I direct all of my energy towards the happy times, and I remember the individual how I last seen them. That’s my approach when it comes to dealing with the crushing blow that death always deals.

But, this time was different. Very different.

It wasn’t only me who was forced to deal with this completely unexpected and devastating lost of life.  My youngest son was also pulled into the madness. In all actuality he was much more affected than even I — because he lost his father. Thus, I didn’t have the option of ignoring or shutting the matter of death out. I was forced out of my usual routine and into a very inconvenient position of having to deal with death.

Long story short,

My son turns out to be a lot like me. He doesn’t want to be sad and he doesn’t want to sit around crying however, he does want to talk about it in snippets.

So whenever the urge hits him, he’ll ask a question, make a statement or just come lay his head on my lap. And me?  I fully engage with him. I follow his lead. Whatever and wherever that may be.

His way of dealing with this, it’s not all that bad. It has actually helped me to deal with yet another unexpected death (YES! Barely a week later, death reared its ugly head in my space again!).

Thanks for each and every comment, thought, suggestion and prayer. All has been truly appreciated!

 

Be sure to tune in for a guest blog entitled “A Day at the Houston Zoo” constructed by my eight year old son, Patrick!