Six Months Out

What if you can't quite get your bearings, even after the dust settles? What if part of the landscape is too different to recognize? I think about the way it used to be and I think about the way it was going to be. I look around and they are both gone.

I think about David dropping by on a day like today- a beautiful, clear, spring day. He was adorable sauntering up the driveway; sometimes he'd bring Rudy, my grandpuppy, and both of them would be smiling. My heart aches. I ache for the future that I won't have with David. I ache for the old woman who will still be missing her beautiful firstborn, after thirty-some years. I ache for my other kids, for Mark, handsome Mark, who has glided deftly into the oldest son role and has been a source of strength and comfort for Mom.

Maybe this is a good time for a Mark story.

Mark was always the tenderest of our kids. He was the only one as a baby you would call "fussy". His feelings were easily hurt and he always wanted to help whomever was needing it- usually Stephen. As a little boy, Mark often had a worried look on his face. Who could blame him? He was next in line after David, who wasn't timid about anything and was downright entertained by pushing other people's buttons. Ray and I always said that it was David who made Mark grow up to be strong and steady.

If anyone had a reason to give David an ass-whoopin' as a teen though, it was Mark; he'd taken and seen Stephen take plenty of abuse from David over the years. It's a story as old as big and little brothers. One day, while we were still living in Glen Allen, David picked a fight with Mark. I don't remember what the deal was, but what David hadn't factored in was Mark's recent training with the wrestling team. Mark only did one season as a wrestler, but this was the season. All of a sudden they were both on the kitchen floor, and after a few seconds of grunting and spinning, Mark had David in a hold and David was paralyzed, snorting to breathe. Mark had his chance. I just knew David had it coming, and I was afraid it was going to get ugly. I was looking for a broom handle to break them up. By now they were way to big to get in amongst. But nothing happened. Nothing physical, anyway. Mark just held David there, for a long time. Long enough for it to sink in that Mark could easily, but was choosing not to, punch David's face in. I think the other three kids had run into the kitchen at this point. After it got real quiet and Mark had calmed down he just released the hold and stood up. I've always been glad I didn't step in. I think it was a turning point for the two of them. Just like that, in the flash of an eye, boys become men.

It's six months out now. Although I still ache to my very bones with every wave of acceptance, there are longer stretches of time now when I'm not sad. I still have to purposely set my grief aside during the school day, and I'm not always successful, but there are fewer big waves of pain. They are still fairly regular though, as if dispensed by the Great Physician, in barely manageable doses. I feel like I've aged ten years.

The good news is that I am sleeping through the night again and at times feel a peace and hopefulness about the future, the brightest I've ever felt. David gets the credit. Someone asked recently if David is talking to me. So far, he only says, "Take care of yourself, Mom". So I've been trying. It's the first time in my life I've been allowing myself to put myself first and not feel guilty about it. A shrink once told me I needed to spend some serious time being a child. Well, it was hard to catch up on being a child while raising five of my own.

Now the empty nest is within sight. Grace will be going off to school in August and I will have the house to myself. The only other time I have ever lived by myself were the months I rented a room in a big Victorian on Monument Avenue in the Fan. That was a cool existence for a 21-year-old. Broke, but cool. So I'm kind of looking forward to being on my own again. These days Grace is so independent and busy with her own life, I'm already starting to indulge my "inner child", to have things my way. I am taking baby steps toward healing. Perhaps I will also heal from older wounds along the way.

I will always ache for David but I can also make a fresh start. Pain is part of the scenery for now, but life is dynamic if it's anything. It will change. I can choose to walk toward a happy day.

xxoo