Memories Revisited

I'm never sure why some days are harder than others. Today has been a day of memories blasting me from every direction, at a time when my ability to deal with them is at an all time low. They aren't even happy memories, instead, I have been reliving the days surrounding his death and his funeral. Reliving them on an emotional level, to the point that I haven't even been able to say his name without bursting into tears.

I remember how helpless I was to alter the course of events. I remember knowing he was in crisis and not being able to reach him. Feeling the sheer desperation of needing to talk to him so I could try and get him to come home... To reconsider his decision to kill himself. Because when he dissapeared I KNEW that's what he was going to do.

I remember having to call my children and tell them they needed to come to the house. I remember his grandmother wailing in my driveway. I remember his girlfriend dropping to her knees at the door to my garage. I remember dropping with her and staring into the twilight sky and repeating the word "please" over and over and over again. There were infinite meanings to that word, but most prominently I meant please let me wake up. Please make it stop.

I remember finally getting to be with him and realizing his toenails were painted red. I burst out laughing because only MY son would have died with his toenails painted and known I would laugh one last time at his antics. My beautiful child who was strong, virile and all man liked to go with his girlfriend and get pedicures. Does anyone know how precious that is to me?

I remember feeling rushed to leave him that last time. The rest of the family couldn't deal with seeing him that way and had left the room and were waiting for me. I remember not wanting to ever leave... not knowing how to find the strength to resign myself to never gazing upon his face again. He was dead, but at least he was still within my sight. I could see him and touch him and try desperately to commit to memory every little detail of his being. That is perhaps my one regret... that I didn't sit there till I was ready to go instead of when everyone else was.

I remember being the only one holding it together. Writing his obituary, gathering up his pictures, making sure everyone was called.... And all the while thinking I just had to take care of him this one last time. It was my one and only chance to say good-bye to him, to let everyone who loved him know him as I did. I needed to be present... in control. I needed to be strong, competent. I remember wanting him to be proud of me and the results of my plannng. Besides, there was no one else I could let do it. He was mine.

I remember thinking if I could just get it right I could cry later. I could crawl in a hole and die... later.

I remember that once I started crying I wasn't sure I would ever stop.

Yet here I am. 17 months later. Breathing, living, remembering.

Maybe the memories will be better tomorrow, but for today they are almost more than I can bear.