The Rock and The Key
There was nothing I could do about it so I just sat there thumbing idly through a magazine while 13 was ransacking his book bag and chattering a mile a minute. When I replied to a question he asked, I automatically turned to face him and make eye contact. There wasn't an obvious change in his expression or body language but when a child has grown in your womb under your heart for 40 weeks, when they have been in direct skin to skin contact with you for the first three to four years of life, when your every thought is entwined with the innate instinctual knowledge of their very <:od>aliveness, you know them completely. The way I know my 13. And that is why I could see that my 13 could see.
Maybe it was a small widening of his eyes, or a pause in breathing, or the undercurrent of shock value, but I knew that even as he kept up the chatter and the goofiness and the scrabbling through his bag looking for a pencil, his mind was crazy with wondering what to do what to say what was going to happen next why oh why did momma look like she'd been crying?
Denial and ignorance are the ways of my people... and so he and I chatted and neither of us acknowledged my puffy red eyes, the smudged mascara, my stuffy nose, or my scratchy voice. There is a pain you feel when you realize that the lesson you are teaching your child is a lesson you have spent years trying to teach the opposite of. For years I have told 13, "We have to be honest with each other. We have to be authentic. We can't just ignore problems because they only get bigger and noisier until we confront them. It's important to express your feelings no matter what they are, don't be afraid of messiness!" But what I DO is avoid, deny, sidestep, cover up, ignore, and pretend. Children - they do what you do, not what you say. That is not funny at all. It's agonizing.
When it was time to actually do it, it was worse than I'd expected. To have to do it that way, there with all of them and him was like being forced to play a role I knew nothing about. I was on exhibit. He was making the statement see? this is what she is... while he sat there and didn't say a thing. 13 wouldn't look at me unless I spoke directly to him, 11 was trying with all her might to think of something else entirely, and I was frantically thinking, what can I say that is the truth but won't make him upset? what can I say that will express what I want but won't make 13 and 11 feel responsible for my feelings? Why won't he say something! Where is God?
I asked them for some 'thing' of theirs that I could have or borrow until I see them again. 11 brings me a quartz rock - her recent obsession in collecting things. I say that I love it, and I mean it, and then we laugh when I say I probably shouldn't sleep with it. 13 brings me a key. I am undone to the core at this. His key - the key to adventure given at the camp he goes to each year - is something that identifies and defines him... I was expecting a rock from his collection, a guitar pick, something ordinary. But I got the key. I hold this key until it imprints on my palm and then I loosen the knotted cord and wear it around my neck, close to my heart. I will pretend, because it is necessary for my soul, that this key is a message between my son and I. I will pretend, because I have to in order to continue breathing, that he is sending me a signal that he loves me, forgives me, understands. I won't allow anyone to hint differently.
When it was over and everyone went about their business like usual, 13 shooting hoops in the drive, 11 looking for a sweater, and him acting friendly like it was any other sunny afternoon; it was the rock and the key that made it possible for me to drive home before my last bit of hope completely shattered.
...if only the shattering of one's hope didn't hurt quite so much, or take so long...
Maybe it was a small widening of his eyes, or a pause in breathing, or the undercurrent of shock value, but I knew that even as he kept up the chatter and the goofiness and the scrabbling through his bag looking for a pencil, his mind was crazy with wondering what to do what to say what was going to happen next why oh why did momma look like she'd been crying?
Denial and ignorance are the ways of my people... and so he and I chatted and neither of us acknowledged my puffy red eyes, the smudged mascara, my stuffy nose, or my scratchy voice. There is a pain you feel when you realize that the lesson you are teaching your child is a lesson you have spent years trying to teach the opposite of. For years I have told 13, "We have to be honest with each other. We have to be authentic. We can't just ignore problems because they only get bigger and noisier until we confront them. It's important to express your feelings no matter what they are, don't be afraid of messiness!" But what I DO is avoid, deny, sidestep, cover up, ignore, and pretend. Children - they do what you do, not what you say. That is not funny at all. It's agonizing.
When it was time to actually do it, it was worse than I'd expected. To have to do it that way, there with all of them and him was like being forced to play a role I knew nothing about. I was on exhibit. He was making the statement see? this is what she is... while he sat there and didn't say a thing. 13 wouldn't look at me unless I spoke directly to him, 11 was trying with all her might to think of something else entirely, and I was frantically thinking, what can I say that is the truth but won't make him upset? what can I say that will express what I want but won't make 13 and 11 feel responsible for my feelings? Why won't he say something! Where is God?
I asked them for some 'thing' of theirs that I could have or borrow until I see them again. 11 brings me a quartz rock - her recent obsession in collecting things. I say that I love it, and I mean it, and then we laugh when I say I probably shouldn't sleep with it. 13 brings me a key. I am undone to the core at this. His key - the key to adventure given at the camp he goes to each year - is something that identifies and defines him... I was expecting a rock from his collection, a guitar pick, something ordinary. But I got the key. I hold this key until it imprints on my palm and then I loosen the knotted cord and wear it around my neck, close to my heart. I will pretend, because it is necessary for my soul, that this key is a message between my son and I. I will pretend, because I have to in order to continue breathing, that he is sending me a signal that he loves me, forgives me, understands. I won't allow anyone to hint differently.
When it was over and everyone went about their business like usual, 13 shooting hoops in the drive, 11 looking for a sweater, and him acting friendly like it was any other sunny afternoon; it was the rock and the key that made it possible for me to drive home before my last bit of hope completely shattered.
...if only the shattering of one's hope didn't hurt quite so much, or take so long...
Posted by Dionne at June 17, 2009 
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: son mothering Life crying anguish hard issues emotions heartbreak children saying goodbye
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: son mothering Life crying anguish hard issues emotions heartbreak children saying goodbye
I'm so sorry...
Hugs for you my sweet friend. You don't deserve this... not one bit.
xo
LBC
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Please know that you are being prayed for every day. Our prayers go to a God who is more loving than words can express. I know how hard it is to really believe that at times like this. I think sometimes we get by simply by remembering how we used to believe-- it's almost like we take our own word for it-- our past selve's word for it, that God is good.
But He is so good, and He is with you, even in this.
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