Hubs is working late tonight. I don't even know how he is going to make it home awake. He left at 4 am and here is is 945pm and he is still at the hospital. But. He has two days off in a row. Two days to sleep in. And MOM is going to be here, too. We actually get to sleep in and get a date. Feeling super blessed.
So we bit the bullet and are having a cabinet company install new cabinets and counter tops in our kitchen. Our old stuff was actually being held together by duct tape in places. It just wasn't worth paying to fix it when it wasn't much more to get new stuff that is much nicer. No more water damaged particle board. And did I mention that I don't have to do the install? Holy Buckets. You have no idea how much pressure that takes off a mama.
The guy came out to measure today. He got lost. His Garmin couldn't find my street. I love that. He was nice and made me feel all awkward when Little Lady woke up and he told me she is beautiful like her mama. I don't do compliments well. Unless they are from Hubs. Those are good. But he was really nice and kept telling me how beautiful and smart my kids were. And he said "You have two kids? A boy and girl? And they are perfect! What a perfect family!" And I smiled and said yes. And I felt the daggers for just agreeing. But who really wants to get into it every.single.time? I love my Jameson. But talking about my dead son can just kill me sometimes. The shock, the look, the pity and sorrow. Sometimes it's just too damn much for me to take. So I just smiled and said yes. Because it was easier.
And he kept measuring. And we talked about if we could squeeze in a bigger sink. And he was amazed that I took down a few walls all by myself. And it made me feel like a good role model for Little Lady that her mama can knock a wall or two down in her flip flops in her spare time. I want to raise a strong woman. Hell Yeah.
And we were doing so good. He was at the front door. Saying good bye and complimenting the kids again. The guy was seriously impressed with my family...he was a very nice and professional guy. And we almost made it. And then Little Man just throws it out there. "My brother is dead. He died when he was three. And we all miss him. And Little Lady never knew him because she is just one and it's sad for her so we have to tell her about him."
My groan may have been audible. I couldn't look at the guy. Just at Little Man. I could only look at him and smile and nod and shake my head with the grief and the knowledge of how important it is to always tell J's story. It is one of the first things he tells people when he meets them. He just wings it out there, not getting the bomb he's throwing out. Or maybe he does get it and that is why he needs to throw it out and away from himself. It is a grenade that explodes daily for us. Hourly. Jameson is gone. It defines who we are. And he can't meet someone without making sure they understand that definition.
It defines us all. Every second of every day. My son is dead. Little Man's brother is dead. Little Lady's brother is dead. She never even knew him this side of Heaven and this will define her life. It won't be the only thing. It isn't the only thing for any of us. But it is HUGE. If you don't know that part, you can't even begin to know anything about me. And I sit on the side of the pool at swim lessons and I feel like I have a neon sign over my head saying "my son is dead;" not because I wear the sadness, but because it created such a profound change in my existence. There is NOTHING not changed from his sickness and death. Nothing. I may have carried some things over, but I am a different person. Completely. We all are changed. And we SEE so differently than most of you do. I can't even put it in words, but what I see and live every second is such a different world than it was when J was still here. And it defines every thought. Every action. Every interaction.
When J was dying I used to pray that God would take it easy on Little Man. I hoped with all of my heart that it wouldn't be this hard. That after time he would not miss him like this. That his heart would heal. Because this brokeness is a pain so excruciating I would never wish it on the devil himself. And I so prayed and hoped that my living son would heal and not know it like we do. But he seems to feel the grief and sadness just as much. He just doesn't have the words. Ahhh. I can't put into words the feelings I have right now. It is too much to bear -the pain of J's death coupled with the pain I see in Little Man and my inability to make anything right.
Oh how it defines us all.
I need to believe that there is a greater good at work in this. That this grief is at work in us all and it will make the world a better place. I need to believe that. I need to believe that I see differently and behave differently and that it makes a difference somehow. I picture the way waves can grow in the water and need to think that this can be like that. That maybe we are defined in this way in order to help define something bigger than ourselves. I need this belief like I need to breath. His death has to have been for more. Our pain has to be for more. Somehow this all has to be for more.