The Point of Change

Delighted that finally he would be in my home.

Hopeful that catching up would be a possibility.

Ready to help him achieve any dreams he may want to chase.

On July 16 2018, reality came to my house.

The skies began to cloud over as I knew surely change was coming to our peaceful oblivion.

Two weeks it was not so bad. The tension was sending down roots in order to withstand the onslaught.

And then it began.

Hell was unleashed upon my youngest and myself.

We watched as my oldest turned into a being that we did not know.

Anger and resentment, could that also be hate, oozed from his entire being.

We could do nothing right. There were no smiles for us.

The words were not soothing. They were meant to provoke.

All that I suggested was torn down as a stupid idea. Too complicated. Too much work.

Yelling that yes he is stupid, just like his Dad.

For sure that all hope for him was lost even as I pleaded for him to listen, to try.

Husband and middle child returning did little to subdue the darkness that was beginning to envelop us.

There was no calm unless the oldest was absent.

My heart was crumbling. My husband was trying to be there for my oldest, for me.

We all felt the heaviness, the negative feelings put out by my oldest.

I tried to fix what was long ago broken, but it is true, what has smashed cannot be put back together without flaws.

I thought my love would be enough, but it was not nearly enough.

And then one day we found out that there was a possibility.

We began to work toward that possibility. And a slight glimmer of hope emerged.

As the information came in the reality formed that the oldest would have to return to the South.

Then one day he did migrate South.

The heaviness and the darkness were gone.

It took the rest of us an entire weekend to recover. To come back close to the normal we once had. But the old normal was gone, replaced by this new strangeness. The knowledge that my oldest was determined to break me and I would have to choose if this was going to happen.

To be continued.....

November 19, 2018

Settling In

Recently I moved.

The weeks leading up to the move were challenging for me. I packed all of my mother's knick knacks along with my Grandmother's carnival glass into a plastic tote. When my Dad came to visit I sent them back with him. I was happy to know that these belongings would safely make the move.

All during the chaos of saying "see ya laters" watching my oldest son prepare to move out of my home, and getting things ready, I wanted to call my mom.

Some days the urge was so strong I had to fight it off. I wanted to drink, but I knew that would solve nothing. I wanted to cry, but really scream at the sky. I made it through most of the year without the urge to call her. Now in the midst of it all I felt her loss.

I retrieved my plastic tote, brought it into my new home and placed it in a safe space.

Once arriving, once my furniture arrived, I felt worse.

Two pieces of my mom's furniture were damaged. Thankfully not beyond repair. But I felt sucker punched. I wanted to scream at the unloading team. I wanted to make them understand that this wasn't just a shelf or entertainment center. This was my mother's. My mother who took such good care of them, and then I get them and they break. Throughout the remainder of the day I felt the tears threating to fall. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

My wonderful husband was able to drill the legs back onto the entertainment center. The shelf has a crack, it won't survive another move, but for now it works.

Once the entire house was set up, I pulled my plastic bin out of it's safe place.

I sat in the floor and unwrapped each piece one by one.

Behind me I could feel my mother. I could feel her looking on, observing, waiting.

I set up her shelf with most of my books.

Then with great care I set up her knick knacks. Each time I look into the entry way and see the shelf, I can feel her approval. I know she would be pleased with at least this one thing.

All the other things that I need to tell her, well, I'm not sure how that will work out. I feel lost. I know the holidays are upon us. I know that she won't be there to call. I will push past the urge to eat my feelings. To sit in her recliner and watch sad Christmas movies while I eat my favorite ice cream a pint at a time.

All will be well in due time

November 7 2018