23 today

Today is Mother's Day. It is also Jeremy's 23rd birthday. We went out this morning and got him one "Happy Birthday" balloon and 4 green star balloons. We let them go at the baseball field at the college and then sat in the grass and watched them till they floated into the sun. Jeremy snatched them to Heaven at that point...we never saw them again.
I cried. Jamey was supportive. I cried some more. It makes me feel good to cry about my sadness over losing Jeremy. That way I know that I am not pushing thoughts away or burying them so deep that I can't get them back again. I miss Jeremy very much, but I don't let those feelings rule my life. Sometimes I worry that I am not sad enough, that I don't cry enough, or dwell on his death enough. Then it occurs to me...that is what people do that cannot let go. I can let Jeremy go; I know he is Heaven and he is happier and healthier than he was here. I know that I will see him again.
It is hard though, hearing people talk about what they are doing with their kids on Mother's Day. My neighbor announced that her son (25) is taking her on a date to the movies. I just thought to myself, "Relish it, I'd give my eye teeth to sit in a movie theater with my son." I didn't say it though.
Happy Birthday Buddy...I love you!

Lost

As my career in academia comes close to an end, I am beginning to question my inner strength. I have held myself together through many things in the past couple of years...a major relocation, death of my son, loss of a job, and returning to college after a 27 year hiatus. I have not, through any of that, felt as overwhelmed as I do in this, my final quarter of school.
I am, for the first time since returning, being very challenged in school. I am in higher level computer application classes along with a higher level (and quite boring) accounting class. These things, combined with two part-time jobs, are starting to wear on my confidence a bit. I feel like my brain is fried most days after classes. I come home and intend to study, but just can't bring myself to do it. I have set the bar very high for myself throughout school. My CGPA is 4.0 and I am very hard on myself if I feel that is in jeopardy. This quarter it is VERY in jeopardy! I just don't feel like any of it is soaking in. The day after we cover something in class I have lost it. I have no idea how to write a formula for Excel, I have no idea how to compute the proper payroll tax for anyone, I have no idea what accounts are affected by a transaction that is taking place....LOST! This is the first time I can say "I feel like I am being left behind."
Am I the only one feeling this way? No. Others are expressing the same "lost" feeling.
I know I will make it through the quarter. I know I will pass and get my certificate. Will I have a 4.0 when I am done? Who knows. Does it really matter in the scheme of things? Only to me.

Breakdown

Well, it finally happened. I had the "breakdown day" I have felt coming for some time.
Everything I saw or heard or thought of sent my thoughts to how much I miss Jeremy. It is not only his death that I thought about though. It was how long it has been since I celebrated Christmas with my family.
I had Christmas with Jeremy last in 2006. Haven't had Christmas with my mom or brother since about 1997, and my dad since 1993? I always believed children should be at home on Christmas morning. Now that I don't have that "restriction," the weather plays a key factor in my winter travels, making it hard to plan anything in the PNW.
I would give anything to be with my family at Christmas. It just can't be done.......not this year at least. Jamey is working today and everyone has their plans set. Maybe next year.....

Almost Christmas

There are two more days until Christmas.......



Have you ever noticed how a song can take you back to a special moment when you heard it? Not the FIRST time you heard it, but a significant moment it was playing in the background?

Maybe it is just me, but songs always take me to a time in my past.



I have, because of this, grown to almost hate the song "Where are you Christmas?" by Faith Hill. I hear it about three times a week. Driving in the car, it comes on, I sing along, and I am crying by the middle of the song. That is the song that was playing the last time I saw my son alive. I had met him and his father at a truck stop and was showing them the way to the motel they would stay at that night on their way to Vegas (where his father lives.) As my ex husband helped Jeremy out of the car, I realized, for the first time, that my baby was an AIDS patient. He was gaunt, weak, quiet, and helpless. He needed help out of the car, needed help to the bathroom, needed help in the bathroom......I fought the tears at that moment. I held it together for Jeremy. As we got back into our cars, the song came on.....



I was listening to the words for the first time....."Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?"......"My world is changing, I'm rearranging" I couldn't find Christmas that year (still having a bit of a hard time finding it, but getting better), and our worlds were DEFINITELY rearranging! Our worlds would never be the same after that winter......



I caught a glimpse that night of what my son's future was to hold.....needing assistance to do everyday things......being tired and weak a lot of the time......getting sick oh so easily......the reality of his disease had hit me.......and it hits me again, every time I hear that song.



Why don't I just turn it off? Because I can't. I need to force myself to come to terms with those feelings, those emotions that torment me every day, the ones I rarely let surface.



I will listen to that song for many years to come. I will sing along. I will cry. I will talk to Jeremy after hearing it, telling him how much I love and miss him.



I will go today and let some Christmas balloons go for him. He will get them and they will make him smile.......



I miss you Buddy........LOVE YOU

Reinforce

It is that time again......winter is hitting. Reminders are everywhere about what we went through two years ago with my son.
Last week, my cousin's partner passed away of AIDS. My cousin watched him go through much what my son did, but in different forms. I know how hard that was for him. It hurts to watch someone you love go through so much pain.
I also, last week, was invited to speak at the local World AIDS Day event. I will be reading a poem that I wrote while my son was ill. I am ecstatic! I so want to share his story; let people know how this horrible disease affects families, as well as the patient. AIDS affected my family in ways that the average person doesn't think about. I feel a need to share this and share what he went through. Speaking at Waorld AIDS Day will give me a start to my voice......

ohhhh, the symolism

Camping season, 2009, has drawn to a close. It makes me sad. We got home this morning from what turned out to be the last trip of the year. When we arrived at the park, it was apparent that others had already ended their season. Ours was one of three campsites in the entire park that was occupied. At first it was wnderful! The dog could roam free, we had no one adjacent to us....almost like we were the only ones there. This morning the reality set in.
We know that this park closes, usually at the end of October. The manager had told us that the pipes freezing was used as the gauge. Frozen pipes mean that it is time to blow them out and close the gates for the winter. We woke up this morning to frozen pipes. We would be the last compers of the year.
We tried to milk it. We kept adding wood to our fire, going for walks, anything but gearing up to leave. As our wood ran out, I grew melancholy. The fire was symbolic of our camping season. Flames were out and we were trying to keep them going just a little longer. We sat watching the coals burn out while off in the distance we could hear a tractor picking up picnic tables. They have to be refinished every winter. We watched the burning coals while our tables went away to the shop.
Finally after about an hour, we had to call an end to it all and dowse the burning embers with water, dowsing our monthly getaway in the process. With the coals go our trips to the river, our hot dogs roasted with sticks, our long walks looking for deer, our s'mores, and any chance of seeing the elusive bear.....at least for this year. All will wait until next spring. All we have to get us through the winter is the memory of our camping trips. Finding out that Cooper only like marshmallows that are toasted, eating a little less dinner so we have room later for s'mores, heading to the field early in the morning to see the herd of deer, and waiting patiently and quietly while Jamey tries (and succeeds at) feeding deer from his hand. these memories will all come to life again next spring. But for now, I am left with the memory of that fire burning out my campiing trips.....oh the symolism.

That Time Again

It's that time again. Fall.....the turning of the leaves comes thoughts of the past. It was about this time two years ago when I found out my son was ill. He had his last day in school in mid October. Then he was admitted to the hospital and I was keeping the Interstate hot. I was traveling 400 miles every weekend, never knowing for sure how long I would be away from home. Usually I was away for a long weekend....3-5 days. Then it became apparent why we were staying in an extended stay hotel. We were living in a hotel for 3 weeks. Nights in the hotels, days in the ICU waiting room or in my son's ICU "pod". I would sit there watching him, hoping he might move....a twitch, an eyelid flutter, I watched for anything. He did eventually wake.

When he woke, he was in Hell. He had lost a leg to MRSA and he didn't even know it. AIDS wasn't bad enough, now this. Poor kid. It took him a few days to realize the leg was gone. I guess the meds were keeping him from noticing he no longer had his right leg. When he finally realized, the poor nurse took the brunt of it. He still wasn't coherent. I think he thought she did it. He started biting her and trying to hit her. I felt so bad for her and for him. He didn't know. He was so incapacitated from the meds and all the surgeries.....he just didn't know. After 13 surgeries in 20 days, he was no longer the young man I had seen 4 months earlier. He was no longer able to speak above a whisper. The ventilator had scarred his vocal cords horribly. He didn't have the energy to exchange banter with me, as was our way of communicating with each other. He didn't have his sense of humor, although he did try. He tried for me. It took all he had to talk to me or ask a question.

My son was a demanding patient for the hospital staff. He had questions, he didn't understand what was happening or when, and frankly, he was bored out of his mind after 2 months in the hospital. He was just trying to understand and put the pieces together.

He was finally released just before Christmas. He went to stay with his Dad where he could get treatment without living in a nursing home. He was literally half the man he had been only 4 months before. He had gone from 220 lbs. to 114 lbs. upon release from the hospital. That was the last time I saw my son alive.

There is a piece of me that wishes I had not seen him...a sallow shell of his former self. He was gaunt, weak, and didn't even look like anyone I knew. My baby was an AIDS patient and seeing him brought that home to me. I cried in the car on the way to his hotel. I had to pull it together before I saw him again at the hotel. I couldn't let him see me cry. I managed to pull it together long enough to go in to register them. While we were doing that, he was getting sick in the parking lot.

I hate that disease. I hate what it did to my baby. He was on his way to his dream. Going to school to achieve a goal. He wanted to own a small neighborhood bakery and watch it grow. He was in the pastry program at Le Cordon Bleu. For the first time in his young life he was loving school. That got ripped from him. He never got a chance to do a lot of things. ..drive, own a home, go to Disneyland, play a slot machine, be in love, or have a family. I hate that disease.

I hate this time of year.