Ok, first off, I know it's been a really, really long time since my last post. This doesn't mean that I haven't been writing or even more importantly, that I haven't been thinking. A tremendous amount of activities--some medical, some not--coupled with an introverted state of mind, account for this.
Fast forward to now. Ended up in the hospital earlier this week with a post-surgical complication that was so painful that I truly was scared that I might die. This level of fear is rare for me, and as it turns out, one of the docs told me that had the problem been left unresolved, it easily could have been fatal (tangential note to self: congratulations on coming out of a 20-year fog and re-learning to trust your intuition). During my transport in the ambulance from my physician's office to the hospital (when we still didn't grasp what the problem was other than there was pain that couldn't be controlled, even by narcotics), I felt compelled to compose something to leave for my children in the event of...ummm...well...you know.....
Anyway, I kept it to 3 sentences, thinking ever pragmatically that 3 sentences would be easy to write or to dictate to someone if needed. Here is the distillation of thoughts that were running rampant during that ride:
To my most Special Boy and my most Precious Boy,
The purpose of life: To leave the world in a better condition than it was when you entered.
Instructions: Try to live every day with integrity and to take as many opportunities as you reasonably can to experience the joy of putting someone else ahead of yourself.
Parting words: I certainly am at a great loss to tell you how deeply I love each of you, but I hope that one day when you have a child of your own, this experience will more than make up for my lack of words--especially if you remember back to this note and double the bliss, gratitude, and wondrous blessing that you feel the first time you hold your special, precious newborn in your arms.
All my love, forever and always--
Mommy
As I transcribe these thoughts tonight and think more about the things that seemed most fundamental and heart-felt that day, I still stand by them. What you (my boys) don't yet know is that I am starting to create books and boxes for each of you, books and boxes that will be filled with photos, reading lists, stories of your childhood, birthday and bar mitzvah gifts, and to my best effort, the types of conversations that I hope to have with you as you grow into young men, but that will nevertheless be written down "just in case". By no means is this even remotely a mind-set of "giving up"--but for my own peace of mind, especially as I go through treatment, it is imperative to me that you have as much as possible, whatever I can give you--should that day come too soon. And for every year that passes, I will celebrate with immense joy and gratitude for the milestones that we have shared, and smile in private victory as I move yet another item or letter into your "before" box.
This is much of what has captured my focus and kept me from completing draft posts that have been lingering untouched for the past few months. Oh, and compilation of a second bucket list*--one that I am planning for the stuff I want to do after I die. I promise to be back soon.
*item number 1 is to take dance lessons from Michael Jackson
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Friday, February 19, 2010
Friday, November 27, 2009
Farewell, my friend
Dear Boy,
I’m smiling a little as I write this. “Meteora” is playing, loudly enough that I can hear the lyrics and cannot dismiss it merely as background noise. What a prophetic choice this turned out to be—do you remember my not knowing about any of the music in your car collection? That morning I was tired, slightly hung over, and a bit out of sorts, so rather than try to force my mind to work too hard deciding, I let my intuition guide my CD selection. In my world experience, which certainly does differ very much from yours, there is rarely any such thing as coincidence. Anyway, I liked this music that day (and BTW, I also liked riding in your little red race car with you exuding your boyishness) and now that I’m home and letting my mind wander, I like it even more.
So, just as you were feeling awkward the day I left, I too felt that way. It has taken me a few days to understand what I feel—and why—and I will try my best to articulate this to you as an attempt for more peaceful, easier feelings between us. In fact, it was the awkwardness, the uncertainty of resolution, that I didn’t want to leave behind.
There are some really important things I learned from you, which underlie my feelings, and which I tried in part to explain that morning when we were in the airport. I don’t know if this time it will be any clearer, but I will try.
About two months after my diagnosis, I felt the need to connect, to love and be loved, to find joy that might help me cope. Coming out of a long term abusive relationship had pretty much destroyed my self worth, and any remnant was quickly consumed shortly after starting my treatment. Losing my hair, battling my weight and the injustice of steroids, the near instantaneous drug-induced launch into menopause, and the prospect of losing my breasts (these are actually the least unpleasant side effects, but I think you get the idea)—all of this left me full of fear and distress (not to mention the angst over whether I will actually survive). I wanted nothing more than to crawl into the arms of a loved one and hear that no matter what, that these are silly, shallow things, and that me, my essence, my being are still here--beautiful and lovable as ever--and that in the end this will pass and it will all be ok.
When I realized this is what I most wanted, you were the one who came to my mind immediately (and I do mean immediately, even thought it had been 20+ years). You see, when we were younger, you were the one person who could make me feel safe, and make me feel like everything really was ok—my haven, of sorts. As I explained to you, my feelings for you were based on my love for you as a person—a love that was slow to develop, that grew as I learned more about you, and that to this day, was deeper than any romantic love I have ever experienced. It was not your appearance, but rather you, that was the basis for my attraction. After spending plenty of time chasing “cute” boys (and even eventually marrying one), I became even more certain that what I had felt for you all those years ago was true and meaningful and the best way to really love another person. I will never forget the evening we kissed in your bedroom on Elm St. For about a week or so prior, I walked around in a daze, thoroughly confused and trying to understand why the most handsome boy in the world had been there all along without my having seen you that way before. This realization was so startling that I am sure it caused the nervous jitters that led to my clumsiness when I leaned over to you for that first kiss.
So in my present state of mind, you were the obvious (and only) person to whom I would let myself go. In my mind, I remembered your love for me being based on me, with not much thought to the external. And maybe this was true then; even if not, I prefer not to know, as I would like to hold my idealized memory of us as I have kept it all these years. Regardless, I do understand that as adults we differ, and I respect the fact that what I more recently had wanted for us is not possible.
When I think about it, despite not getting all that I had wanted, I did find some of what I had been looking for. You held me up and led me through some of my darkest moments, and did give me hope that somehow, some way things will one day be ok. I now realize that I can carry this hope with me always—it need not necessarily be linked with you—and this is a remarkable gift. Thank you for bringing this to my life, and I will never forget that this is now a part of me.
So with this all said, I would like to leave the past in the past, and wish you well, my friend. I will always love you—that boy I knew so long ago—and am grateful for the many joys you have shared with me (and even for the not so enjoyable times, too, since they also were occasions to grow and to learn). No regrets on my end—I am happy to have tried, and content that I will no longer carry the question of “what if ?”. Perhaps one day we may resume a friendship, but for now, I think it best for both of us to let it be. I had told you a while back that I would never ask for more than you can give, and I mean it.
And remember, I do not believe in coincidence so if we happen to meet again, it will not be by my design and I will be yours with a smile…
Violet
I’m smiling a little as I write this. “Meteora” is playing, loudly enough that I can hear the lyrics and cannot dismiss it merely as background noise. What a prophetic choice this turned out to be—do you remember my not knowing about any of the music in your car collection? That morning I was tired, slightly hung over, and a bit out of sorts, so rather than try to force my mind to work too hard deciding, I let my intuition guide my CD selection. In my world experience, which certainly does differ very much from yours, there is rarely any such thing as coincidence. Anyway, I liked this music that day (and BTW, I also liked riding in your little red race car with you exuding your boyishness) and now that I’m home and letting my mind wander, I like it even more.
So, just as you were feeling awkward the day I left, I too felt that way. It has taken me a few days to understand what I feel—and why—and I will try my best to articulate this to you as an attempt for more peaceful, easier feelings between us. In fact, it was the awkwardness, the uncertainty of resolution, that I didn’t want to leave behind.
There are some really important things I learned from you, which underlie my feelings, and which I tried in part to explain that morning when we were in the airport. I don’t know if this time it will be any clearer, but I will try.
About two months after my diagnosis, I felt the need to connect, to love and be loved, to find joy that might help me cope. Coming out of a long term abusive relationship had pretty much destroyed my self worth, and any remnant was quickly consumed shortly after starting my treatment. Losing my hair, battling my weight and the injustice of steroids, the near instantaneous drug-induced launch into menopause, and the prospect of losing my breasts (these are actually the least unpleasant side effects, but I think you get the idea)—all of this left me full of fear and distress (not to mention the angst over whether I will actually survive). I wanted nothing more than to crawl into the arms of a loved one and hear that no matter what, that these are silly, shallow things, and that me, my essence, my being are still here--beautiful and lovable as ever--and that in the end this will pass and it will all be ok.
When I realized this is what I most wanted, you were the one who came to my mind immediately (and I do mean immediately, even thought it had been 20+ years). You see, when we were younger, you were the one person who could make me feel safe, and make me feel like everything really was ok—my haven, of sorts. As I explained to you, my feelings for you were based on my love for you as a person—a love that was slow to develop, that grew as I learned more about you, and that to this day, was deeper than any romantic love I have ever experienced. It was not your appearance, but rather you, that was the basis for my attraction. After spending plenty of time chasing “cute” boys (and even eventually marrying one), I became even more certain that what I had felt for you all those years ago was true and meaningful and the best way to really love another person. I will never forget the evening we kissed in your bedroom on Elm St. For about a week or so prior, I walked around in a daze, thoroughly confused and trying to understand why the most handsome boy in the world had been there all along without my having seen you that way before. This realization was so startling that I am sure it caused the nervous jitters that led to my clumsiness when I leaned over to you for that first kiss.
So in my present state of mind, you were the obvious (and only) person to whom I would let myself go. In my mind, I remembered your love for me being based on me, with not much thought to the external. And maybe this was true then; even if not, I prefer not to know, as I would like to hold my idealized memory of us as I have kept it all these years. Regardless, I do understand that as adults we differ, and I respect the fact that what I more recently had wanted for us is not possible.
When I think about it, despite not getting all that I had wanted, I did find some of what I had been looking for. You held me up and led me through some of my darkest moments, and did give me hope that somehow, some way things will one day be ok. I now realize that I can carry this hope with me always—it need not necessarily be linked with you—and this is a remarkable gift. Thank you for bringing this to my life, and I will never forget that this is now a part of me.
So with this all said, I would like to leave the past in the past, and wish you well, my friend. I will always love you—that boy I knew so long ago—and am grateful for the many joys you have shared with me (and even for the not so enjoyable times, too, since they also were occasions to grow and to learn). No regrets on my end—I am happy to have tried, and content that I will no longer carry the question of “what if ?”. Perhaps one day we may resume a friendship, but for now, I think it best for both of us to let it be. I had told you a while back that I would never ask for more than you can give, and I mean it.
And remember, I do not believe in coincidence so if we happen to meet again, it will not be by my design and I will be yours with a smile…
Violet
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
