This is the feeling that sometimes overtakes my mind. The feeling that I will not be escaping this death, this time it may take me with it. Not in bodily form, but in spirit.
I see a mom hug her son on TV and I burst into tears, wishing I could once more hug my son, hear his laugh, our bond was strong and I miss him every minute of every day.
I find I think to myself how unfair life can be that he finally found love, found peace and then felt he had to hide just how sick he was from me, from us, showing how he learned from his mother, who learned from hers to always keep that face on in public. Never let them see you flinch and you can do anything...only he couldn't and my mind wanders wishing he had come to me and somehow we would have found the money to get him medicine and then we might have had longer to say goodbye.
But then I think once he had the stroke he never really ever realized how sick he was, he only gained full consciousness maybe twice, neither time I was there. The days I was there where he almost died and they re-ventilated him and the other when he could not speak but with his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes (how I miss those eyes) we "talked" but without words, using that special magic mothers and sons have from birth.
His love gave me a picture and shared with my sister and I about the day it was taken, the day he came home to their new place after his living in a fifth wheel by my house and he told her he could not remember ever being so happy that he shed his clothes, put music on and danced around the house naked, laughing...like when he was little and life was fun.
The picture taken later that same day at the Mexican restaurant he had taken me to and his love and where I met her family, where my sister and I met that day to receive the picture.
I look deep in my son's eyes in this picture and I see his soul, his hurt, knowing he found love too late, his beaten and rejected soul. I can see every bad word ever said to him, I can see every heartbreak, every bad day, every wrong choice, but I also see love, in a tiny corner, of his blue, blue eyes I see love and every time I look at this picture I must touch it, like I am touching him and trying still to soothe his brow, to calm his mind, to show him how much I loved , how much I love him still.
I wanted to copy this picture and place it here to share it but when I started to it stopped me, don't take me from this frame, leave me where I am, for now, share me when your stronger, when your heart can stand to see me staring back at you.
For now I still write it out, I still share my soul here, my battered and bruised soul and with luck this won't stay a wound like no other, with time it may become an ache, unlike any other but in time maybe my heart will ache less, my throat with loosen when I talk of him and maybe, just maybe I will be able to walk by the picture and not need to touch it, to stroke my son's face one last time...