I woke up this morning and I cussed at the cat and I made coffee and then I remembered. That is like a big deal in my book. When I remembered it didn't make me want to kill anyone, it didn't even make me cry, but it did make me sad.
I can do sad. I did my laundry and then I headed to my parents house to drop off some stuff I had. On the way there I passed the thrift store.....I couldn't pass the thrift store....so I went in. I found some cute stuff, then headed on to my parents house.
I wasn't sure they were home and I wasn't sure that I wanted them there. But my Mom was. I walked in ready to be mad. "Where were you? Do you even know how much pain I've been in?" But she was and she did. She couldn't handle it, but she did. She gave me coffee and she listened to my stories, and she took me out to look at her garden and I know she cared. Not the way I would've cared, but the way she does.
She gave me some cards that went to her house instead of mine. They meant a lot to me. She asked me what they said...I weighed it. Reading them to her I would cry, and finally getting that she doesn't cry...I said "They are sympathy cards and they mean the world to me."
I feel like I'm healing. There is a big part of me that feels like this is so disloyal to Benjamin At what point do you live everyday knowing that your son died the way he did, and be ok?
It's the old "ok" question.....and it makes me feel like a traitor.