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And then he was gone …
Me: you’re leaving? But wait …
*takes picture*
Me: I love you so much
Nic: May Neptune watch over your soul
Me: what?
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.)
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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.
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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 woke.
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.
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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.
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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”
Ouch.
Wasn’t ready for that sentence.
Home.
His home.
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.
Of Cords – Extension and Umbilical
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.
The day my son was LITERALLY a pain in my arse.
I donned a white dress I haven’t worn in a very long time. Since last Summer I believe?
Went to work.
Sat down.
OUCH!
WTF?
Checked out the chair. Chair was not an unsub. (For those of you that don’t watch Criminal Minds – first of all, “SHAME ON YOU!” Secondly, it means unknown subject.)
I madly rushed about my day and each time I sat, OUCH!
I checked the lace in my dress. Oh, this was the dress. (Looks better on me than flayed out on my bed.)
I was brought up as a lady – so I had these very delicate panties/slip type thingys underneath said dress.
They’re large, I’m slender. They work as a slip.
So then I start inspecting THEM!
Nothing.
Half a day in at work I can’t take it anymore and actually found a private moment to ‘ladylike reach my hand up to my arse.”
(You’ll never read that in any Bronte novel)
And … What do I find?
Last time I washed the dress must have been with Nic’s work shirt – WITH name tag attached.
I peeled it off and announced my discomfort. Because, we all know, I do SO well with editing.
“Nic was seriously a pain in my ass today!!!!”
I have since confronted him – laughed with him and he even allowed these selfies. (This is rare – it’s like Big Foot accepting a photo op!) I even plastered his tag onto his forehead.
I look at it as a ‘thank you’ for doing his laundry.
Yes, you have hurt me
But, I know you don’t really give a shite
And I will always love you
He wore the tag well … He braved the photo storm. I shall forgive him this dress intrusion.
But, today, yes – he was a PAIN IN MY ASS!!!!!!
Musings from the day that no laundry was done.
Hello Soupers.
First of all, happy Mother’s Day to all those who mother. Whether it be their own child, another’s child – a fur baby. Happy Mother’s Day also to the truly single dads out there.
I spent today without my mother as she’s still in England.
I’m still house sitting.
My son arrived after noon and I was SO glad to see him.
He made a collage for me of notes I’ve left for him over the years, some over 7 years old.
I also received the traditional ‘hastily made card’.
But what meant so much more was him just showing up.
We went and ate Mexican food locally and then grabbed some chocolate canollis from the restaurant next door.
The canolli place had a very sad ‘grabby’ machine. It was out of order, but beyond that, had a very sad selection of ungrabbed prizes.
This poor pup stuck under the pile
Me and Nic, and what the heck is up with that owl???
We went to the local bar/gambling establishment after that for Nic to experience. He’s never been in there. I, however, since we lived here years ago have. We stayed maybe 10 minutes and, $50 later.
It was kind of cool – but in a dysfunctional odd sort of way.
He’s my baby. Very strange being in an adult environment with him, but very fun seeing him get carded and then ask for a water. LOL!
We came back to my parents home and ate the conollis. We watched Britains got talent on YouTube and we shared things.
How we were feeling – how life was going – where we wanted to be.
And I was so glad he was with me.
Thing is, I’ve been having DAILY panic/anxiety attacks daily now.
Thing is, I didn’t have one with him here.
I want to go home.
But, I also want to be here for my mother in her time of need.
I am physically, mentally, and definitely emotionally losing it.
And not wanting to add to my moms plate.
I need to see my cardiologist too.
Oh! That’s another thing. I found out that if you donate your body to science, your cremation is free – and whatever is left of you is returned to your loved one.
I’m considering this.
So – bittersweet. Today was bittersweet, but I was very glad to have a mother to say ‘Happy Mothers Day’ to, and a son that showed up.
From Boy to Man – and About Alice.
Had a squabble with my son today.
It was unpleasant.
It came on the heels of his 21st birthday.
21!!!
I started this blog when he was still walking up a dirt road to catch his bus to school!
He was this little …
Our squabble? It was over a bird.
He wanted/wants a bird.
I said no.
We rent – they poop. We rent – they scratch their seeds. We rent – he doesn’t pay any of it.
Truth is, I’ve always wanted a bird too.
But, not a caged one.
One I could put to bed after it flew free in my (owned) home with interaction.
We don’t have that to give.
What he DID get for his birthday was semi-impulsive and it dawned on me today, he has more of me in him than I had thought.
What he didn’t DO on his birthday made me proud.
He thought he was driving later to a friends after his birthday dinner to do college homework – so, he didn’t have a drop of alcohol.
I SO appreciate that.
Respect that.
My son has common sense.
As for the tattoo (of which, I have four) I didn’t love it.
No, I’ll be honest.
I didn’t love the idea of it – because, he HAD a plan.
He wanted to integrate nature and technology and was going to be proud to have that imbedded in his flesh for eternity.
After consulting with a tattoo artist, he was told it would be 5-6 hours in a chair and perhaps he needed a pre-tattoo. (I’m sure that wasn’t the sentence the guy used – but hey, I’m paraphrasing.)
I felt like he was being coerced into an extra tat.
When Nic sent me a mock up of the tat – and I saw Alice –
I knew he didn’t have me in mind. (Although, I WAS hoping for his first to be “MOM” in a heart – just kidding.)
Because, this is what he brought me back from his big trip to England:
But, he had heard the story over and over of when I was in a bus in India as a child reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and the bus hit a man.
No one really cared.
But, when we hit a chicken!!!! We had to pay for not only that chicken, but the chickens it would produce, the eggs those offspring would produce etc. etc.
One less mouth to feed in a 3rd world country is above food that feeds them – to a degree.
I kept reading on that bus – but did catch a glimpse of hamburger head.
It was horrible.
But, we took him somewhere good – and my mind stayed in that book.
Bottom line, I said:
And he is honest. Like me – to the point of discounting himself, if that’s even possible.
We try it, we do – but to lie – it doesn’t lay softly on our chests. I’m glad he got not only impulsiveness, but HONESTY from me.
And now we’ll both always have Alice.
Debauchery Soup 