The summer sky is unpredictable these days.
The angry heavens pour down their wrath day after day.
Haying is nearly impossible.
Fields; sodden.
Water gathers in the basement and swirls in the river.
Yesterday and today there is a break in the pattern.
The sun shines.
Humidity; flees.
We withdraw to our Happy place.
Sun reflects off the fast, flowing river.
The wind rustles the branches of the stately willow.
This.
This moment in time is refreshing.
I try to hold on.
I memorize the sounds and the feeling.|
The youngest crawls onto my lap.
She curls tightly in a ball.
Her long legs protrude.
I hold her close.
I breathe in her scent.
I don’t want to forget.
The heaviness and weight have returned.
The missing and the ache.
I push through.
I want to be present.
In this moment.
It is later;
when I am alone that I face the ache.
The nauseating, piercing hole and reminder.
The wave washes over me again and again.
All that can’t be.
Won’t ever be.
I find the steady.
Something unshakable.
That which I can ride this wave.
I can hear the still small voice.
I am here.
I breathe deep the loss.
I will never leave you nor forsake you.
God reaches into the yucky part of the ache.
I created you.
I listen to that voice.
I created Elijah.
I know your ache.
I see your pain.
I am not alone.
I have never been this whole journey.
Though I may feel alone; I never am.
I am grateful for the time we took to seek the quiet.
This practice of slowing down intentionally is good.
We will keep practicing.
May you find the time to seek the quiet.
To rest with your family, friends or pets.
Join me on this journey?
What are the things you do to pull back from the hustle and bustle of this life?
Good morning Tammy. I always enjoy reading your blog. I replied on one of your blogs awhile back. Maybe over a year. I shared with you my son, stepson and your son, Elijah, all graduated from high school the same year. I will never forget hearing the news. The day. The time of day. It was a beautiful day. Even though we have never met, and at that time, I had never read your blog or new anything about you, I felt your pain instantly. I still feel it.
I also wrote to you about one of my other son’s. He’s struggled with addiction for 4 years. So young. He’s 23 now. Will be 24 in November. It had gotten to a point that the only thing I could do was pray for him. I am happy to share that he is doing much better now. He will fight this for the rest of his life. It’s a choice he tells me. Daily. What he hangs onto is the pain he went through with the withdrawl. He doesn’t ever want to go back to that pain again. Ever. He wanted to die. He would tell me over and over and over. The pain. He wanted it to stop I will never forgot sitting outside of McDonald’s in Essex Center. Cold. Snowy. Sunny day. It was after the first time (fall of 2014) he went to Maple Leaf in Underhill. I brought him there (Maple Leaf) the day after he turned 21. Tears still in my eyes every time I think of this moment. It was there I will never forget the words that came out of his mouth. We were talking about his 3 weeks spent at Maple Leaf. He had spent Thanksgiving there. Something he never wanted to do again (He spent another 3 there. Fall seemed to be a reoccurring theme for his return). The words came out, and I felt like someone had stabbed me in the side. Here sat this child ( always in my eyes). My child. My second born son. “Mom…I never thought I would see 21. I thought I would be dead by now.” I fought back the tears. I have always been an emotional person, but because of the divorce when my 4 children were so young, I had “hardened” or as some have said “became stronger”. I am not sure if I agree with these descriptive words. All I knew is I didn’t want to cry in front of my son. The 4 of them had seen a lot of tears from me when they were younger. (And here I am rambling. So much I could share.) Those words will haunt me. Forever. I will never forget. So young. So much life ahead of him. I thought…”If he could only “see” it (the life).” For him, he was struggling to stay alive each day. So hard for a mother to witness. Why? Why did he make that terrible, terrible choice to use. WHY? This questions still places over and over again in my head today.
I raised 4 (3 boys and 1 girl) by myself. Thank goodness for my parents who live in Essex Center (my dad has passed. And that’s a painful story. We lost him to suicide in the dead, cold winter of January 2007). I am now married to an amazing man who treats me like I am a princess. My life is so different. But I will never forget the journey I/We took to get “here”.
I love reading your blog. Thank you for sharing your experiences, thoughts, family, struggles, triumphs. Thank you. Hugs.❤️
Thank you for reaching out you courageous mom. Thank you for sharing your story. I do remember your comment awhile back. We will persevere with hope and joy through this path.