I was watching a show about a mother who lost a son early in life. He was 29 when he was killed by some random nut. He ended up rushing the guy and saved many lives.
His mom said she had one wish. She knows he is up in Heaven. She just wanted one day with him. Just to hug him. Talk to him. And her face starts to perk up. She says I want to ask him where he’s been. Ask him where he’s going. It was a positive spin on such a tragic situation.
It made me think of what I would do if I got the chance to have that one day with you. Just one day. I would ask so many questions. I would ask how you felt leaving us. I know you would be so very, very sad. I know that. I don’t think you ever wanted to leave any of us behind. Then some part of me thinks how happy you were to see your parents and John. I think that must’ve really brought you so much joy and I think of you hugging Pop Pop and just crying. I also see you apologizing. Of course apologizing for something you could not control. Maybe the way some of us feel today. I think about Mom Mom giving you a hug, a hug only your mother could give you. Then I think about how I last hugged you. Out back of The Erin no less. A huge powerful hug. I feel that God was giving me some type of hint.
I know that absolutely no one can take this pain and grief away. As much you talk or pray, it’s now embedded inside of us. I know we literally push through it. We don’t have a choice in that matter. It’s appalling that someone could be so matter of fact to say “everyone dies, you gotta get over it.” I laugh at that comment today. So naive. So disgusting. I would never say that to anyone who lost someone. Must be below human. Haha.
You’ll be glad to know I started a meal service. Cooked two great meals so far. I think of you when I cook. I think how that and the beach were truly your special places. Places where you could be you and let go. Places where you created or relented to the sea. I smile when something goes wrong. I smile when someone does something opposite of what I expected. I know that’s not me. I can’t control that. More and more I am letting go of what I can’t control or just letting it fly out of my life. It’s a relief. I don’t need to carry any more dead weight.
We are doing well. We are all healthy and alive. As I am at the doc’s office as I type this. I know you would be happy at my progress with the T1D. Well, the numbers are going down, so that's a plus. Grateful to be in such a much better, healthier situation than a year plus ago. Had a good talk wth primary today. Talked about the past, things from long time ago and things I need to just let go. She gave me some good resources for me, for family, and for moving forward. Excited to get started. We all miss you. It's definitely getting colder around here. Looking to go ice skating around Christmas. Hopefully snag a nice little house before winter is over, but not rushing anything.
Anyhow, miss you a lot Mom. You really are the HOF'r. Really. I have something else to write, but I feel like you really all around us around this time. I think of 1339 Edgehill road, like 30 years ago...lots of love, people all smoking around a huge kerosene heater (bomb), ha, the tree in the front of the house, people happy and hugging, you and Pop Pop doing your thing, Mom Mom grabbing my face with both of her hands and her laugh. Oh how I miss her laugh. Opening gifts. The heat from inside steaming the middle clear glass with the two yellow opaque glass sides of the door. Santa's fire truck blazing down the street. Man, lit up the whole street. Just that excitement. All the people out, the kids, the firemen, the parents, the love. It sure did go quick, but I will never, ever forget it. I will have to find a picture somewhere. Love you. Bobby