I try so hard to stay away from this place. Maybe it is wrong to fight it. Yet it is what I do. I think this is me and this is just my way. Always has been.
I push it down and smile and play along. My husband tells me it isn't good to hold it in so much. He tells me to cry more. Nope, can't do that hurts too much.
I check in, read and gather the little snippets. I don't read all the way through sometimes, it makes it harder. I can't pretend when it is all so real, here in black font.
While completing some work online, my husband flips the channel. He gets up to go outside leaving it on one station. In between my typing I look up as a man begins to talk. With a strange smirk on his face, he begins to tell the story of how he tied an electrical cord around his son's neck and let him hang. I can't breathe. It hurts, such a pain somewhere between my chest and my stomach. Why? Poor little baby. Why? This man lives and his son is dead. This universe makes no sense.
My little one sleeps, he looks like his big brothers but he looks so much like the one that is missing. That hurts as well. Makes me want to hold him in my arms and never let him leave my sight. But I go to work and I do my job and I move forward. That pain again somewhere between my chest and stomach, coming and going throughout the day.
My Mother is visiting. My mother who held him in her arms, yet somehow she forgets. She continues to mention my 3 sons, leaving him out over and over. I can't scream and shout, it will not solve anything. She just doesn't feel what I feel.
I just want to see him. I want to hold him and know that he is okay. Just for a minute. What I would give for just a moment with him. I wonder about the color of his hair, would it be straight or curly. Would he walking, talking, laughing? Who would he be?
I push it down and smile and play along. My husband tells me it isn't good to hold it in so much. He tells me to cry more. Nope, can't do that hurts too much.
I check in, read and gather the little snippets. I don't read all the way through sometimes, it makes it harder. I can't pretend when it is all so real, here in black font.
While completing some work online, my husband flips the channel. He gets up to go outside leaving it on one station. In between my typing I look up as a man begins to talk. With a strange smirk on his face, he begins to tell the story of how he tied an electrical cord around his son's neck and let him hang. I can't breathe. It hurts, such a pain somewhere between my chest and my stomach. Why? Poor little baby. Why? This man lives and his son is dead. This universe makes no sense.
My little one sleeps, he looks like his big brothers but he looks so much like the one that is missing. That hurts as well. Makes me want to hold him in my arms and never let him leave my sight. But I go to work and I do my job and I move forward. That pain again somewhere between my chest and stomach, coming and going throughout the day.
My Mother is visiting. My mother who held him in her arms, yet somehow she forgets. She continues to mention my 3 sons, leaving him out over and over. I can't scream and shout, it will not solve anything. She just doesn't feel what I feel.
I just want to see him. I want to hold him and know that he is okay. Just for a minute. What I would give for just a moment with him. I wonder about the color of his hair, would it be straight or curly. Would he walking, talking, laughing? Who would he be?
Oh Paula. Just do what feels right for you.
ReplyDeleteI have the opposite problem, that I can seem to hold nothing in at all.
And I don't think it makes any sense at all. At least not one that is within the limits of my feeble little human brain to understand. Stories like that leave me short of breath too. Why? Why? A question to which I know there is no answer but I can't help it forming on my lips.
I'm sorry your Mother leaves your Braedon out.
I wish you could have one more glimpse. I wish I could have one more glimpse too. That I could know the answer to even one of the things that I wonder about.
Another blogger, Mrs. Spit, introduced me to this cover of the Leonard Cohen song. Don't know if it was on your mind when ou wrote this post, Coming Back to You http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WhlBDmbvAwI
Still here too - listening, reading, wondering the same things... I'd give everything I have for just one moment too.
ReplyDeleteI wish, I wish..... sigh I am always thinking of you Braedon and your family.xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteHi there Paula...I wish it were different for us both...wondering along with you.
ReplyDeleteI feel the same way. The wondering is so hard. If I could go back to Liam, even knowing that the outcome would be the same, I would go in a heartbeat. Even just a minute yes.
ReplyDeleteRemembering Braedon always <3