My family and friends(and mostly my hubby) worry that I am always on the go, DOING stuff, and worrying about others instead of resting and relaxing.
They just don't realize that I HAVE to keep myself busy. I try to exhaust myself and keep my mind off things. I go every second I can til I AM so exhausted when my head hits the pillow I fall asleep instantly, because if I'm not- I can't sleep. I spend hours there with thoughts of how Clay must have felt those last few seconds of his life- all kinds of horrible things running thru my mind about did he suffer the agony of that flipping car- his arms and legs being twisted about and the ejection from the car. Or was he blissfully unconscious during those last few seconds- oblivious to the hell he was going thru?
I wonder about if he was outside his body when he passed- watching all the commotion that was surrounding him- the man who lived at the house trying to flag down help and looking all over the field for him when he couldn't find anyone in the car? Did he see The highway patrolman having to hold Kathy, Clays wife, back because she recognised the car when she came looking for him when she had that "feeling" that something wasn't right and decided to go look for him- or meet him on the way home?
Or as I lay there I think of Clay when he was a baby and would lay next to me in bed with his sweet baby smell and the downy softness of his hair tickling my face as he wiggled in his baby sleep and dreams. I think of the times we would take a nap on those hot summer days when he was little, the fan blowing a breeze across us as we lay there with the TV or radio softly playing in the background. I'll lie there and think of the times I would try and get him to go to sleep for a while and the only way I could get him to sleep was to lightly scratch his back and softly sing Amazing Grace to him as he drifted off. And then I remember that the last thing I did for him before they closed his coffin was to stand beside him and rub his head and softly sing him That song and tell him "sweet dreams, my baby boy.. I love you a MILLION BAZILLION".That was how much he would say he loved me when he was a little boy and didn't know many numbers. It was a huge lot to him- the biggest number EVER, as he put it.
I wonder how much of his life I made him waste taking a nap when he was young. I think about all the times I spanked him or yelled at him or fussed about things he had done- or not done. I know they seemed like good reasons at the time, and I know I was just trying to be a good parent- but It all seems so petty and pointless and it comes back to haunt me now that he is gone.
I want my baby back. I want to be able to hug him and hold him and laugh with him and watch him hold his baby boy and kiss his wife. I want to be able to see him growing older and I want him here for all our family things, fighting with his brother and sister over the last glass of sweet tea and telling us his stories to make us laugh.
I wish I could stop the tears- I have cried oceans and still they come. I sometimes want the pain to stop-but I know it won't, nor do I ever want to stop grieving for my baby. I need to grieve and mourn, I just don't know how to do it and carry on with my normal life.
I want things the way they WERE!!!
2 comments:
:( I hope you find some sunshine each day, enough to dry your tears and reveal some beautiful memory that you can cherish and celebrate. It is said that this too shall pass, and I sincerely hope the grief will, in time, become a joyful sorrow.
Sweetie, every day I remember all the good memories i possibly can- and still my tears come because with all the sweet memories comes the realization that there will be no more to make with him.
I think you are right tho- in a few days, when his baby is born, the grief will begin to become a joyful sorrow.I can take comfort in the fact that Clay can live on thru our memories of him that we'll pass on to his little boy.
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