Yesterday was Bay's birthday. She is now 19. It is the first time we have not spent her birthday together. I guess that's how it goes when your kids grow up and become mommies and you move away and get married to your best pal.
Bay wrote something on her Facebook wall about her stepdad remembering her birthday and her father forgetting. That man continues to be a disappointment to our children. I usually say he has good intentions and poor follow-through, but to be honest, as time goes by even I realize that may no longer be the case. What is wrong with him? Does he forget? How do you forget something like that?
I remember growing up with a single mom. My dad didn't forget my birthday, but I didn't get to spend very many of them with him. Mom used to say things like, "I try to be both a mother and a father to you." We all laughed when we heard George Carlin use the same line in his act, but a single parent really does have to play both roles. I'm not sure I was ever good at the dad-part, but once I got a Father's Day card from Sarah that said, "You are the top pop," and I'm saving that thing forever.
In my 44 years I've lost a few people whom meant a lot to me, but this time around the grieving process feels very different. Every day I wake up and I think, "Max is gone." My mind immediately tries to reject the idea. "No, he's still here."
For the past week and a half, I've been going about the business of life, trying to find a job, trying to show my friends and family that they don't have to worry about me, that I'm okay. Today, I had a job assessment which is leading to a second interview, so that is encouraging. Plus, we found out an hour ago that my grandbaby-to be is a little boy. That was thrilling news. People have been reaching out to my family sending us cards and flowers and meals and it feels so good to know that Max touched so many lives.
I'm trying really hard to be normal, to find joy in the every day, because I want to be strong for my girls, but this grief thing, it can sneak up on me and sometimes, I have to admit, it kicks my ass. It's like a wave that crashes over my head and steals my breath away.
I can be calm and smiling even. Minutes later, there's that grief again. While driving to get milk at Raleys, a Dixie Chicks song came on and I heard;
Godspeed, little man
Sweet dreams, little man
Oh my love will fly to you each night on angels wings
Godspeed
Sweet dreams
It's a song that a mom sings to her sleeping boy, but I connected with it and next thing I know I'm a mess again - driving down the road, crying in my minivan. I miss my "little man" so much. He was a wonderful son and I loved taking care of him. Every single day was a gift. People would say things to me about raising him, comment about how it must be hard to take care of a boy with special needs, but he wasn't hard. He was sometimes heavy, but never difficult. Everything about him was positive, everything was good.
Grief might kick my ass, but I think I'm just going to ride these waves as they hit me. I'm not going to push any of it away, I'm going to find a way to keep my head above water, and I'm definitely going to listen to that song again, even if it makes me cry.
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