On a rare occasion when we were able to have a conversation, my 8-year-old son asked “Mommy? How come you never smile or laugh?”
I’m going to let that sink in a moment, the way I have most moments since he asked that question.
My second grade son who appears to be completely self-absorbed in his own little world of wrestling, video games, sports, and friends (as he should be)–has observed that I don’t smile or laugh, at least when I’m around him. Does this break anybody else’s heart the way it does mine?
I do not want my children to think that I am never happy. There are times when I’m very happy. I think I’ve been happiest at times in the AFTER when I’m doing or have done something that I was afraid to do. The times when I’ve done something that in the BEFORE would have been Jake’s job. These times I am positively giddy.
But, my kids don’t see me at these times. My kids typically have me spinning in circles like the Tasmanian devil himself. I’m working really hard at trying to figure out balance, as most people are. The scales are just a little lopsided right now.
It’s the little things I miss the most. Of course I miss the big things too–our 10th anniversary trip to the Big Island, our honeymoon in New Zealand. But, it’s the little, everyday things I hardly even noticed before that I miss the most. Walking in the door to a big Jake hug. The “Oh-the funniest thing happened today…” moments that aren’t really that funny at all and definitely not funny enough to share with others the way they were with him. I even miss how much nicer his mother’s lawn looked when he was around to take care of it. I was at her house recently and was so distracted by the condition of her lawn and how horrified Jake would have been. I couldn’t help myself–I searched her shed for some tools and started weeding. Then I remembered how Jake himself taught me how to weed in the first place. He really took good care of his mother and I miss that. It’s not all about the responsibility, chaos, and super short fuse now, even though I talk about those things a lot. It’s about more. Something that can’t be defined or explained. Stating “a big piece of me is gone forever” just doesn’t encompass all that the loss actually is- the loss is so much larger than the sum of the feelings I can put into words.
Okay–time to talk about the “L” word. Very taboo and very sensitive and a whole bunch of stigma attached to it. Yup. Loneliness. This isn’t the same thing as being alone. As a matter of fact, I can feel lonely even when I’m actively engaged with other people. Does that even make sense? It doesn’t even make sense to me and I’m the one feeling it. I have the most incredible family and amazing friends. I live in a community that continues to support me in ways that surprise me all the time. How could I be feeling this lonely? This loneliness scares me because it is clearly coming from inside of me (I am rarely alone)-and I’m really afraid of feeling this way for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong- I long for and embrace the time I do get to spend alone. But I could really stand to lose the loneliness part.
I have Jake’s ashes in our safe. He would HATE that. He couldn’t even stand to wear a watch most of the time because it made him feel claustrophobic. But, I need to keep them safe. I need to make sure they go where they need to go-where Jake wanted to be and the places he dreamed about going. His buddy has been planning a climbing trip to Denali for a while now. A few weeks ago, the thought popped into my head. That is perfect! Jake would love that. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Fortunately, his buddy agreed with me and is planning on taking some of his ashes to the summit if he can. I think that’s the way it’s going to be. Things will just click with me at different times and I will know that is a perfect place to spread his ashes. (I feel very strongly that he would also love a little part of himself to be spread in CenturyLink field or the Virginia Mason Complex where the Seahawks practice so if anybody has connections–it would be a dream to hook Jake up with that!) Back to the point(I think?)-I am really nervous about opening his ashes. They have been sealed and I’ve never once opened the box. I’m not really sure how I’m going to feel. I know it’s not going to be easy. There will probably be a blog post after that one.
Anyway, how to explain these big feelings to an 8-year-old who just notices that his mom never smiles or laughs? I can’t even put them into words to explain to grown people.
There have been quite a few celebrity deaths recently. I found myself getting irritated when someone said to me something like “It’s been a rough week for celebrities”. I snapped back “It’s been a rough day for what–the millions of loved ones who lost people who aren’t celebrities, too. We just don’t hear about those.” The world loses great, talented, beautiful, kind people every minute. Some are tragic and some are not. But all are gone. I guess what I’m trying to say is that death is not something that happens to “other people”. It’s going to happen to every one of us and we never know when or how. I’m on this planet once-in the blink of an eye, I won’t be. I do not want to be remembered by my kids as a sad person who never smiled or laughed. I don’t want to live my life that way either. As much as I call bullshit to the Stuart Smalley school of thinking–“Look in the mirror and choose to be happy. Because you’re good enough…” blah blah blah. I can make a promise to myself to be more mindful about it. Pay attention to what makes me happy and do it more. I’d like to set that example for my kids, too.