I am again leaking out with stories, feelings, thoughts and happenings for neglecting to write for an entire month. My excuses are many: kids, research papers, final exams, work, graduation, birthdays, job-hunting, packing, insanity. Okay, maybe the last one is just the end product of it all, but it seems close at hand right now. Really, I say that in jest. I am not going insane. But I am off.
Hubs graduated from medical school just over a week ago now. And I have been on the verge of tears ever since I saw him walk on that stage and get hooded. I'm so proud of him, proud of us. I think back on this journey and am amazed at our endurance in this race. Medical school is difficult for everyone, and when Jameson got sick, well, everything got harder. Brushing teeth was sometimes a monumental task. But Hubs did it. We made it. And here we stand, on this side of the finish line, and I'm a hot mess of tears and overwhelming sadness and loss.
I think there are many reasons for this. I think part of it is similar to the let down described by athletes after finally attaining the prize they've spent their lives working towards. Yes, there is that satisfaction and pride in completing it, but there is also a "what now" kind of emptiness there. Kind of. It's not quite that dramatic, because we have plenty of answers for the what now question. But there is this feeling of wow. It's over. And that is just... kinda there, as my dad would say.
Part of it is Jameson. Okay, let's just be real, Jameson is part of everything. I am off on a tangent here, but I wrote about this in a class a few weeks ago- when he died, the entire orbit of my life has changed. Everything falls into the Before Jameson died and the After Jameson died categories. And whenever I'm sad, happy, grateful, angry-at-the-world, confused, etc, the first thing I wonder is how this fits into that context? Am I more grateful because J died? Am I sad today because of J? So yes, part of it is Jameson, because he is a part of everything. Every thought. Every action. Every prayer. Every breath. But in this instance, I'm thinking about how Jameson started this journey into medical school with us, but he's not here now. His life was shorter than school.
I suppose my melancholy could also have something to do with the fact that we are moving. Yes, we chose a new adventure! We have both dreamed of getting out to the West Coast for years. We both fell madly in love with the Pacific Northwest on our three week camping trip two years ago. And we are all ridiculously excited to get there, get settled, and explore! But, choosing this dream also means that we chose to leave. We chose to leave our home. We chose to leave our friends. We chose to leave our family. Part of me wonders what the hell is wrong with me? How can we leave family after all we've been through together? But we are. And it feels kinda crappy. I feel kinda guilty. Good byes are not fun. But I suppose I've had worse ones.
I'm also fairly certain that my emotional instability might have something to do with tomorrow. Maybe. Mother's Day. Ahhhh. This one cuts so deep. And I'm too tired and crabby to be eloquent here. This day will always be awesome because I am a MOM. I birthed three children and I love them and this day is a celebration of that. And I don't need all the crap the advertisers keep telling me I need. I don't need flowers. I don't need breakfast in bed. I don't need time to myself at a salon or some fancy dinner or jewelry. What I want most is to stand in a room with my babes and look at them and SEE them. To stop. And look. And take in the wonder of it all. They grew inside my body and they belong to me and I belong to them forever. An nothing, not even death, can ever break that tie. The love that flows between and mother and her children transcends everything. And that is what makes this day awesome.
But this day will always also suck. For the rest of my life it will be a thorn in my side. Because my son is dead. And while the tie is there and the bond is permanent and the love still swells in my breast, he is gone. For the rest of my life, he is gone.
So I suppose it isn't a surprise that I'm struggling a bit at the moment. I told Hubs the other day between crying jags that I feel like I unexpectedly tripped and am falling backwards into the black hole. And he asked me what black hole? And I said THE black hole. And everything feels fresh and sad and new again, just it like did that first January. And I'm not sure why it seems almost that bad right now.
So here I am, free falling, down, down, down. Like in the dream where you hope you wake up before you hit bottom. But I know I'll wake up soon. It can't stay night forever.