It is a constant, missing my son and grandson.
At least two, often more, times a day the pain hits me; I silently scream out at the rat bastard responsible for all of this and want to know WHY-no answer, never an answer from him to the question I answered on my own years ago.
Because he could. Because he wanted to hurt me, and much much worse, he wanted to hurt Fox. Completely.
I try all sorts of things to get through it without going insane. Not much works or helps, and I have the worst days when the question spins faster and faster in my head and heart, my soul until I just want to find some place quiet to hide until I have control again-but can't, because life goes on.
"That's how you know it's real." She said it very softly, as though she knew some intelligence was just too much.
"That's how you know it's real, because life goes on; you still have to go to work, pay the bills, wash the dishes and the dog. That's how you know it's real, because life goes on."
And finally, she told me, it really sinks in. You reach the horrid awareness of the finality of it.
Because life goes on. One morning you wake up knowing in the very marrow of your bones that your life is completely and iretrievably changed; it is an irrevokable thing.
It was for Job, and it is for you.
No-one can wave a magic wand and put everything back together for you-EVER, not even God.
"Time," she said, "is consecutive."
Meaning God isn't going to reverse the flow to make it all right; circumvention of the law of physics is one thing, but turning back time to the place before what happened to devastate your life simply is not part of His plan.
Absolutely nothing is ever going to un-make it happen.
And you still have to get up, iron a blouse, shower, clean the house, feed the dog, then take him out, and then go to work.
You have to get through work; you have to survive the drive or train ride home.
You have to go about the evening chores, and then you have to do it all the next day.
Again, and again, and again until you go numb for a while and the days meld in a meaningless stream that lull you into a sense of success.
Until something happens and you are breaking the surface. Gasping for air, you long to return to the numbness but can't; your only hope is to contain it until you are safely alone and have the privacy to pound the steering wheel/scream/weep/fall to the ground in a fetal position...
After a while you realize the dog needs to be fed/walked/cleaned up after; you do what needs to be done.
"That's how you know it's real." She leaned close, I thought she was going to reach out and pat my arm...
"Because life goes on even though you don't want to."
All I ever wanted was to be the wife of the right man, mother of his children, and keeper of his home-an equal partner to him and with him through this life.
All I ever wanted for my children was that they choose to spread peace, justice, positivity; I wanted them to choose that over spreading fear and pain and unspeakable grief.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" He asked me that, and I said quickly, "OH, a grannie!"
All these long years I've looked back at that moment; smiling a little at our divers reactions to our long ago childhood conversation, then embarrassed-he said with some shock and surprise in his voice (which I've wondered about-why was he shocked and surprised that I wanted to be a grannie?) "Oh, but I think you have to be a mummy first!"
My reaction to THAT was horror, for the image that flashed into my mind was one of the nightmare tomb robberies; for a very long time I wouldn't even talk to him for saying something so nightmarish to me! Not to mention the bad dreams I had for a long time after.
And recently I read something that clued me into his personal feelings about mothers-his (in a previous life) caused him to choose to never make a woman bear him children so as to spare the unborn the misfortune of having a mother at all.
I never knew. I should like very much to see him face to face now and argue that with him.
My heart broke when I lost Fox and 'Bas, it really did. My spirit shattered; I am not at all the person I was when hope floated along despite the problems.
But I would NEVER refuse the chance to make it different, or to make it better; I would never NOT have Fox. If I could go back in time and change it all, the only thing I would change is Crusty.
Fox, my beautiful boy, I love you. On the 14th I thought about the day 25 years earlier when Dr. Bernard's nurse called and asked if I was sitting down.
Son, I stood then, and I am standing now. I love you. NO MATTER WHAT.
Call Chris, he has my number.
I know about Mangle. I am so sorry to hear about what happpened to him, to his family. To his unborn child.
I cannot get over thinking how awful it must have been for his family to have to say good-bye at Byrd's.
Please don't let that happen to you. To me. To 'Bas, most of all, to 'Bas.
I know about your recent need for stitches. I understand you may have some very serious health concerns.
I am so sorry about all of the grief you have had to endure in your short life.