With Open Arms

I talked to Kathy about the regret of missed time, missed opportunities to spend time together. I think that has to be tough for everyone. The times we spent doing frivolous bullshit. Spending time here, there and everywhere. I want to just chalk it up to “living your life” and I also know that for the simple fact that a few of us lived within a quick ride to you, made us seeing each other a lot easier, but life does get in the way. I think it got in the way too much sometimes. I want to believe we had a very close relationship with you. I want to believe we went above and beyond for you; at all times, not just when you got sick. I want to believe that. I want to believe we were there for you to confide in. Maybe even more than we ever really imagined we had to be. I want to believe that you knew you could come to us when you were sad. I want to believe when you left us, you had heard all the times we said we loved you, said we missed you, held your hand, kissed your forehead. I don’t want to have this continuous sting that I wasn’t there enough for you. Then I think of so many men and women who leave home in their early 20’s and are distant or just out there creating their lives as they may say or they just want to get away from home. I enjoy the fact that I never stopped coming around and never stopped seeing you. I know for a fact that all parents and children go through those hiatus periods where they’re both figuring out their lives. Their life as adults and the adults after being parents. Part of me believes you never ever wanted to stop being a “Mom” and by no means, EVER, did you stop being a loving parent. Not for one second of your life did you ever stop loving your children. That makes me feel good to say. Through our darkest times, you never stopped. You had the innate ability to believe to err is to be human and while we had our achievements, like anyone, we had our failures. I for one accept that I fell down many times. I guess you probably said the same, but you always got back up and with this, it feels like we are just slow to the count. I struggle with it. I know we all do. I guess I know in my heart who and what made you the happiest and I can take a lot of solace. I see people who are losing parents left and right. Another great Folcroft mother is coming to see you in Heaven. Someone who also raised amazing children who are living beautiful lives. Must’ve been something in the village water, all you great moms raising children. Kathy says that you definitely wouldn’t want me to be hurting, but the last 3-4 days have been paralyzing to say the least. I know I have to take your spirit and deal with the worst of life and get my ass up and get back in the fight. I know that I have to do that. I know I have to be more like you were every day. I have some plans for the next few months. I really just need to put them into action. Kathy and I talked about our last memories with you. Her, leaving the beach that day with you. Me, at the Erin for my birthday. I think about all the things I would’ve told you that day had I known. I figure many people think of what they would’ve said to their loved one if they knew it was the last time they would be seeing them, last time hugging them, last time embracing them. I will NEVER forget that day as long as I live. I can still see you walking away from me in the parking lot. To me, it’s like I am still there. I am just watching you walk away…never to ever see my face again. Never to see my mom again. Never to hear your voice. That, that right there is paralyzing. People who still have their parents in their lives should really cherish them every day. Any time could be their last day. I thought that I knew pain before you left us, but oh, I had no idea what pain even was. Not even close. I know you are around. I just never know when. I miss you as my friend. We sure did have a special relationship. Bia got me a great gift for Xmas and I look at it often. It’s right to the left of me every time I log in for work. It’s just beautiful. Your words. I guess I can thank you for that gift of writing. You always wrote so many nice things to people; in cards, in your diary, in letters, in random notes. I think about that. I think about you just saying nice things about people. I think of that as such a great quality in someone. I want to get back to that type of person I once was. That person that said and did nice things; things that made me proud. Made you proud. I want this dark cloud over us to just go away….at least for a while. I don’t mind a little rain, but I need some sun as well. I hope wherever you are, you gave their mother a nice big hug, dried her tears for leaving, and made a seat at the table for her…I didn’t know her personally, but I know the gifts she left on earth and those are beautiful gifts, so she must’ve been a beautiful person. Bobby


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