My kidlet has been gone a month.
I’ve had ‘compliments’ handling this from my bosses.
Truth is – I’m still rocked. My entire world is rocked. I hide it, then:
Bawl like a baby alone.
I have only been able to do the minimum in his room. I can’t be in there for long.
There is so MUCH to do.
Then there’s the living room. His Christmas stocking along with some contents of it are still there. Plus, ‘the sock’.
I don’t want to erase my kid!!
The rest of the room is pristine.
My bird’s sock.
Anyway, so, I go to the laundromat early today … Big mistake. Ended up waiting 20 minutes because again, my Laundry Lady didn’t show. Her boss did, again. Last week, I didn’t go – because, I didn’t have Nic’s clothes to wash. Mine weren’t enough to warrant a trip.
ALL I’ve done this weekend was watch Netflix (This weekend is ‘Saving Grace’ which, I can totally relate to.)
It has touched me on SO many levels I can’t explain.
I guess I’ll try.
I identify with Grace.
I’ve lived a life similar, only, without the whole ‘being a cop and saving people’ thing. But, I like to think I’ve contributed to someone or something.
I posted the theme song to my wall today …
Tangent – sorry.
What triggers me missing Nic?
Only having one basket of clothes for the laundromat.
Me taking a shower and the setting that I use is still on.
Me coming home and the place looks the same as when I left it.
Me coming home and there is no other car.
Me not doing some dishes anyway because I miss the mess.
And mostly, just me, missing the love of my life.
What scares me is, that because of my past I’ve hardened my heart.
Gets me through each day.
I may break down sometimes, and when I do, it’s rough.
But, I’ve been broken so many times to the point I dismiss someone’s existence. Or, their part in mine.
So, what does that mean for my son?
Why do I get ‘kudos’ for not falling apart for my kidlet?
I have a barrier so huge and so strong and so ‘HuuuuGE” Trump would be jealous. Use my wall as ‘the’ fucking ridiculous wall and NO ONE would get in.
(Hate him by the way)
The people do let in by the way, surprise me. Had a friend not long ago comment on Facebook.
As it was sweet, and kind, and ‘Amanda’ past.
I have his SOCK.
CALL ME DOBBY
You would think today I would have an opinion of a certain party and an inauguration.
I do, of course, but, it’s not foremost in my mind.
My mind is endlessly thinking of a woman I love.
The woman I connected with and understand.
The woman fighting stage 4 cancer.
Thing is … As much as I don’t edit myself with people, I don’t with her either.
When she was well, she never co-signed my bullshit. And I SO appreciated that!
Got to talk to her tonight.
I think she finds it refreshing. No platitudes. Just “So, what the heck? What do they say?” No “I’m praying for you.”
But I am.
To the God I don’t believe in.
I do like to keep it real and then SHE gets to keep it real with ME!
I get the full Monty, no editing.
And I get to ask again the questions other people avoid.
I love her too much not to know.
I love her too much not to be myself, and walk on eggshells. ‘Healthy her’ would HATE that!
Don’t get me wrong, I have bawled my eyeballs right out … Put them back in and ‘Amanda’d’ up!
Because, while I can be honest, and handle her honesty, I still have a very sick friend and it tears me up inside.
Next time I’m in line at the bank and people are bitching, I’ll say, not my usual, but “You realize, I have a friend that can’t even STAND UP and would give ANYTHING to be waiting in this fucking line!”
Don’t doubt it.
I’ll do it!
Me: you’re leaving? But wait …
Me: I love you so much
Nic: May Neptune watch over your soul
Nic: May Neptune watch over your soul
Me: (internally) Wtf?
Me: (out loud) ok (followed by massive sobs and ugly crying noises)
Nic: bye for now
It all happened too quickly. Can I get a do over? Please.
(My status on Friday, the 6th of January.)
I knew it was going to hurt. I had no clue how much.
Considering the state of me the day before, work told me to please take the day if needed. I knew as I arrived home Thursday that it would be needed.
To pull closer to your home, only to see your child’s car surrounded by cases and ‘I’m going away’ items well, let’s just say I was sobbing by the time I had put the car into neutral and pulled my emergency brake.
This was it.
The last night.
I walked, wet cheeked, into a home I had shared with him since High School.
Suitcases and vacuum sealed bags lay about the living room and kitchen. His bedroom littered with debris from a lifetime together.
This was really happening.
I stood, purse in hand – unable to stop the tears.
The following morning was a blur.
After watching him drive off – I entered the house (no longer feeling like a home) and broke.
Into a thousand pieces.
I cried myself to sleep.
I cried some more.
I finally found the strength to enter ‘his room’.
And wished I hadn’t.
I grabbed a pillow abandoned on his unmade bed. Inhaled deeply and returned to bed with it. I clutched it so tightly.
And slept again.
In between the crying and the sleeping was the worrying – he was after all, embarking on a 27 hour trip across country.
Physically navigating terrain he’d never navigated before.
Just as I was emotionally.
It’s been 5 days since he left.
My dog, Butters has been out of sorts.
I’ve been trying to be ‘chipper’ at work. Albeit, quite unsuccessfully on Monday. I had made it through the entire day – catching up, slammed.
I was crunching year-end numbers just as I was informed the copy machine was acting up.
“I can only focus on one thing … I’ll call the copy people in a minute.”
A boss responded, “No, finish what you’re doing, don’t worry.”
And, out of my mouth?
“But if I don’t call now, Nic won’t come!!”
Our copy guy’s name is Christian.
Freudian slip led to tears.
They continued to fall as I stayed a little late and got everything done while everyone trod about me on eggshells.
Another jarring moment was yesterday. Nic had told me he would send photographs of where he was (having, obviously, safely arrived at his destination.)
I followed up and his response was:
“I haven’t been home yet. Lol I’ve. Been out all day”
Wasn’t ready for that sentence.
Not ‘our’ home.
And I’m going to have to get used to that.
I’m told repeatedly by people with the best intentions that his flight from the nest is a testament to my successful raising of him.
But I’m still trying to accept that. And, it’s hard. And it hurts.
However, I’m also very proud of him for taking such a ginormous step and embarking on a new chapter of his life.
For following his heart (literally, he left to be with his girlfriend of over three years.)
For bravely starting from scratch in a place he’s only visited a couple of times, and accepting the challenge to ‘adult’.
I’ll always be here for him.
I’ll always miss him.
And perhaps most importantly, always love him enough to let go.
My current status …
I’ve been pretty, um, I want to say ’emotional’ but, truth be told I’ve been a completely withdrawn, passive aggressive bitch. Not just to my son.
It’s as if I want people not to like me so that it will be easy to wean myself off of them.
There’s four pretty significant things getting me down lately – but I’ll just speak on this one.
How to drive home January 6th 2017, not see my son’s car outside of our home and not completely shatter.
Let me clarify again, I am very happy for him. I am very proud that he’s leaping headfirst into the world. I am terrified of his 27 hour trek across the States however.
And fuck! I’m going to miss my kid!!!!!!!
He is the only person I know or have ever met that can make me laugh every single day! The only person I can be completely myself around and be certain I’ll be loved.
Obviously my bitchy depressed mode hasn’t gone unnoticed by him.
Evidenced by, not only my attitude, but the fact that in spite of hosting Thanksgiving this year, I hadn’t one shred of Christmas up.
I’m usually the eager Christmas beaver, wanting to festoon my home as soon as it is socially acceptable. Not this year. I had no joy. No excitement. I also spent the whole 4 1/2 days, other than Thanksgiving day, in my room.
This past Sunday, after the laundromat, I shrugged back into my pajamas and settled in to continue my very important 4 day activity … being horizontal while attending my Netflix pity party binge.
In walks my son.
Him: Let’s go to Oatman for lunch. My treat.
Me: I don’t want to go to Oatman. I was going to take a nap.
Him: OK, I’m going to get ready, then we’ll go to Oatman.
Me: Nic … I really don’t want to go anywhere.
Him: OK, we’ll go to the Hualapai’s instead.
Me: No! That’s too far!
Him: OK, Oatman it is.
He left. And I lay with remote in hand – 3 day old pajamas and a body awash in guilt.
The countdown has begun for the end of this chapter with my favorite person. And I have been pushing him away instead of making each moment count.
I got up.
Ran a brush through my hair.
Swiped my eyelashes with mascara – colored my pale lips.
Dressed warmly – the gray skies were threatening to water our desert.
And found him.
And off we went.
And the moment we began driving my spirits lifted. I was already laughing before we reached our highway.
We encountered a burro blockage as we approached our destination.
Burro was not budging.
The closer we came to Oatman, the more the burros. Here was our escort.
We parked and sauntered into the town we’ve spent so much time together.
Stopped in all the old familiar places. Enjoyed the warmth of an old fireplace as we ate lunch.
And then …
And then it occurred to me this might be the last time we did so together … alone.
My heart ached.
And as if on cue, as my eyes welled, the skies opened – and we walked in the rain. Unfazed by it. We have that in common – our love for the rain.
We took our time heading for the car.
Took our time driving.
Stopped. Enjoyed more time in the rain.
I can honestly say the day ranked up there … one of the top 10 days I’ve ever spent with my baby. My ‘baby’ who has become man enough to understand and to put up with my mood swings. Man enough to know that I needed that nudge.
I put our small tree up.
I’ve yet to find an extension cord in order to light it, but it’s a significant beginning.
And as for my sweet son and his upcoming departure? His significant beginning? I’m learning there’s no need for the cord that once joined us.
He’ll continue to make me laugh – from afar.
He won’t stop loving me nor I him.
It will be a slow process for me – learning how to live in a home he no longer shares with me.
And it will be an exciting and strengthening process for him … learning how to ‘adult’ and not having to share a home with me.