Oct 28, 2013 Party of Four
Oct 28, 2013
My thoughts are so jumbled, incomplete, I can’t focus.
I start to think about how much I miss him, and then I get distracted by images of the moments and hours after his death-his last breath or his little body on the gurney, under a quilt being wheeled away from the house.
The teens are distraught and scared to go back to school.
The dog is acting weird, he’s suddenly so needy.
Sometimes I feel numb and so guilty that I am functioning. Why am I not weeping and useless all day? I should feel worse. I don’t feel badly enough for a mother that buried her son less than a week ago.
That 20 pounds I put on over the course of this last year is really bothering me, but I write this in between bites of red velvet cupcake and sips of red wine.
I can’t believe he’s gone, and yet I watched him die. How is this possible?
I can only remember sick Sammy. I see flashes of healthy Sammy, and then I realize I’m remembering photographs. When will my memories of healthy Sam return?
My back hurts more now than when I was taking care of Sam. I’m not lifting, transferring, adjusting, dressing, and supporting anymore so what the hell?
I’m suddenly in a different class of parent. I was needed. Sam had to be walked to and from school, he needed supervision, help with homework and bathing. He needed a lunch made for school. I cooked for him. John did his laundry. We read to him at bedtime. He would’ve gone trick or treating. Suddenly we’re parents of teens. Sure, they need us but not in the same way that Sam did.
Today we went out to lunch. “How many?” asked the hostess. I was speechless. John hesitated, then responded, “Four.”