For Thor - 54 - Tears for Fear and Love

I am not happy right now, Thor. I'm trying hard to find my footing, to learn something, to glean insight, to expand my awareness, to open my heart, to make sense of your senseless death. The fact is, this fucking sucks on a scale of suckiness that is outside the realm of words and is beyond what a mind can comprehend. I can't piece together language that matches the depth of what I feel.

I've purposefully leaned into the pain and gone to the bottom of the well of grief. I marinated my heart and soul there in that oppressive depth trusting sorrow to show the way. And I've taken bold, brave steps along that path strewn with the litter of our broken lives. Yours cut short. Mine encumbered with the pain of losing my son. The sharp edges of shattered dreams cut my feet, but still I walk on. There is nothing else to do.

I got scared a couple of days ago and it triggered a tremor inside that stirred the pot, big time. I've been feeling somewhat settled, still in pain, but I could breath more freely and think new thoughts. Then, I walked into the house from a much-needed trip to the beach to find Chaz on the couch in his pajamas. It was too early for bed, being the middle of the afternoon. As I fluttered around the house, bringing in my bags and assessing the status of plants, birds and fish in my absence, I asked Chaz about his day. He said he was happy to be alive. I thought this a curious thing to say. Then he told me that lightning struck him just an hour before while he was on the back porch. The strike was close enough to him that he saw a blinding, white flash, and it buckled his knees out from under him. At first, I wasn't sure if it actually happened, or had he just been scared and exaggerated the experience. Then I discovered that the strike had tripped three circuit breakers, and I thought I was going to throw up. I froze inside. My emotional self shut down as a protective barrier wrapped around my heart. I heard myself asking clarifying questions about what happened. Asking if he feels okay now. Taking care of facts of the situation like a battlefront nurse; my emotional self, parked outside the story. I went to bed early not understanding why I was so drained.

When I awoke, there were tears on my face. I had been crying in my sleep. The tears wouldn't stop. I wasn't sobbing; they just ran like a river. The mere idea of fear of losing your brother in the wake of the pain of losing you was more than I could take. There was nothing to do but go there, to that dark place and let it all out.

Fear leads to anger. Yep. I was scared and it pissed me off, so I yelled at God. "No fucking way you fucking asshole! You CANNOT have another one of my kids! Just take your fucking lightning and all your bullshit and get the fuck out of my life!" Mama is not happy, Thor. I don't care about swearing at God; he can take it, the fucker.

When Chaz got up, I wrapped him in huge tear-sodden mama hug. I kissed his cheek and told him how scared I was and that I was so sorry for the delayed reaction on my part. I had totally freaked out inside and needed time to process. He is so sweet to hug me back, just as hard. We're both suffering, you know.

I took some deep breaths and downed a cup of coffee. There were things to do and appointments to keep. So, getting ready for work was the next thing. Somehow, I managed to find an outfit that I could stand to wear and got myself in the car. I cried all the way to Charlottesville. My eyes ran like faucets. I had a meeting, and I was gonna look like heck. Oh, well. This is what happens, right? I have to go to work and sometimes I just don't have my shit together, not even a little bit. A coworker gave me a hug and tears fell. The person at our meeting peered with apparent wonder at my red eyes. I told him the truth, I had lost my son and was just getting back to work. I blinked back a new rush of tears. Is it okay to cry at work? Is emotional vulnerability acceptable? I don't know how to stop it or to be any other way, so I just roll-on.

As if all this wasn't enough, I got another crazy curve ball thrown at me. I was so upset about Chaz and you that I knew I needed a sister lifeline to talk it out. So I hit the button on my steering wheel to tell the car to dial "Poorna" for me. Instead of connecting me with her, it dialed YOUR NUMBER, Thor! Gah! So, I breathlessly canceled that command and tried once more. It dialed your number AGAIN! New tears. Fresh, hot, terrible, sacred mama tears streamed. I probably should have pulled over. But I didn't. I drove on with the nickname I gave you in my contacts list, "Thorminator", glaring from the dash. I finally accessed Poorna by hitting the phone icon next to one of her text messages. Your name remained on the dash, even though the Bluetooth had dialed her. Lord, child! What are you doing to me?

I miss you like crazy. It makes me fucking nuts to think you're dead. I can't believe we are edging up on six months that you're not here with us. I want you to walk through that door for supper. I want to hug you and never let you go. I would give anything to listen to you play music with your dad, again, or to hear your laugh. I want to have a conversation with you because I still want to know some things...

Where are you?
How are you?
WHY THE HELL did you have to DIE? Did you wish you could change it? Or is the afterlife so great that you'd be nuts to want to come back?
One crazy ride. One dumb choice to not put on your seatbelt. One bump on the head and that was it. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??? Holy shit.

Yep, I'm back to the same old questions that swirl round and round.

But you know me, Thor. I can't stay here in this lamenting space for too long. The sense of right and purpose-driven living that is in my very core leads me to attempt to ponder some other truths; It's All God. Everything is purposeful. Ugh! It's so hard to wrap my head around these concepts, right now. But I take a deep breath and swallow hard to remember there is always more to the story and I refocus on the beauty of your short life. I savor and marvel at the impact of your nineteen years on all of us; your family and your friends. The legacy of kindness, friendship, service, and love that touched all our lives. The impact of your death, even, is enormous and far-reaching, bringing people and cultures together in one swoop.

Will I ever be able to reconcile all this honestly? I don't know. I keep walking on this path of sorrow. The pieces of our broken lives cut my feet, and it doesn't matter. This is where I am. It doesn't work to pretend I am somewhere else. I walk on leaving a trail of bloody footprints and a river of silver tears. The path leads me through my center and into the Love that connects us all. This Love is the only thing that doesn't change in this whole existence. I seek solace, comfort and strength there. I strive to connect with you, Thor.

Still, there are tears, they shine and reflect the ever-changing emotions that dance through my being like clouds across a summer sky. Some are sweet (I think of holding you as a baby and looking into your pretty eyes), and some are bitter (You'll never be a dad and I won't get to rock your kids and gaze into their pretty eyes). Some are hot with anger (I'm still pretty fucking ticked off at this whole situation), and some soothe with love (I am softened and melty in the world now. Love oozes out of and through me). All the flavors of all the tears; I let 'em flow.

I just have one thing to ask of you today. Keep those big angel wings of yours around your brothers, okay? I have a feeling you did just that for Chaz, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're a darned good angel, sweetie. As if you could be anything else. Ha!

I love you,
Mom