Scabs

As a rule, I no longer let people in. No one here knows about Henry, except where he lives and works, and I speak very little about my boys. Yet, this morning a coworker was talking about one of her boys and the difficulties she is having with him - and I brought up Hunter and the time he played the choking game. I showed the gals the two pictures I have of him from that day and explained what happened. 

Now, I am in a quiet place at work having lunch by myself, which is how I like it, and looking back to this morning, I should have left that particular scab alone. There are so many pieces the scab covers that if I pick at one, all the others come to the surface - and wait. It waits until I am trying to stuff it back into the gaping hole to wrestle control away from me and pulls me under again.

On the edge of tears right now, I was hoping that if I made a post for my blog about it that I wouldn't drown.

I cannot help by feeling that I am all alone - inside my head - and not another soul in the world has the same problem.

I have no problem being whatever it is I am - married and single, or married, or just plain single. Talk about an identity crisis.

When I look back on my entire school career, I realize I never fit into any one box. I had a diverse group of friends - several of whom I still talk with - and I was good with that. Even now, my circle of friends - outside of those I have known almost all of my life - is very small, and I like it that way. I prefer it that way.

The city I returned to, not by choice, one year ago is the area I lived in from birth through to my early 20's, and I hate it. I feel as though I am in some sort of hell and I cannot breathe. Everything here is shades of gray, which doesn't help my moods at all, and I feel as though I am stuck here; that I will die here and the same funeral home who has handled arrangements for my family for 50 years, will handle mine too. No scab here; nothing to pick at.

Last night I was pleasantly surprised when Henry asked for my help with something. In the past seven years he has asked me for nothing, and the help he needs I am able to do and I will. I have ripped the scab off this wound so many times that it will probably will never heal.

How do I stop loving him? How do I stop wanting to call him every time I experience something that he would be excited about?  Surely seven years is long enough for me to realize this is all I will ever have with him and things between us will never be more than what it is right now, right? In which case I am clueless about how to let him go. He is so much a part of ME that I would have to tear myself apart in order to let him go.

While we made some great memories together, those times are not what this is about. This is about two people coming together, supporting one another, respecting each other, and more. Now both of us are in differing places in our lives and although I think to myself that this could be really good for us, because it means we can start from where we are now and move forward.

Admittedly, I was more than difficult to live with at times, and caring for Hunter too was an enormous drain on Henry. As much as I wish I could go back and do many things over, things that hurt Henry, I know that I cannot. There is no time machine to take me back there, nor take me back for a do-over with my kids.

Why would Henry want to start anywhere with me?

Why would I when I still do not know why he left in the first place?

It is what it is, and it hurts.

Why?

My heart aches for the daughter of my friend Tim. The 5th anniversary of his tragic death just passed and I have noticed that his daughter has been posting a lot about drinking and getting drunk, something Tim didn't do at all.

Almost everyone who knew him respected his choice to abstain, except ONE. On his very last vacation he was sitting at a table with his female friend, whom he worked with, and another couple. While Tim enjoyed drinking soda everyone else was getting drunk.

Then his female friend turned to him and said, "You would have more fun if you were drinking with us!" Tim said he left the table so they could continue drinking without him and lost the last little bit of respect he had for that woman.

It was the evening of September 12, 2012 and I was sitting on the floor of Tim's bedroom, having just called my dad to wish him Happy Birthday, when he shared that information with me. I could see the hurt on his face - and disappointment - because he had been on-and-off dating this woman who, at the same time, was sleeping with another coworker; a relationship she started with the coworker a few years prior and the reason why their respective spouses divorced them.

I had no way of knowing that my staying with Tim that night, would be the last time we would stay up talking (with me crying about the loss of my son Alexander on September 13, 1995) or that the next morning, as I was leaving his house for work, I would stop in the middle of his garage and turn around to see Tim smiling at me with that huge crooked grin of his. As I stepped into my car he reminded me we would meet up after work at his house for pizza and finish the movie we started the night before and that we would stay in touch throughout the day.

The words, "I have a huge crush on you, Tim" were on the tip of my tongue and I will forever regret that I didn't tell him.

Now, Tim is gone. His college graduate daughter is drinking and getting drunk.

There is nothing I can do except miss one of my best friends, and pray for his daughter.

Number Crunching and Waiting

Just as I started to drift off to sleep, the number '18' popped into my head. It took me a moment to figure out the meaning of this number.  It's the number of years Henry and I have been together; the last 7 years apart. We are still legally married, yet have completely separate lives. Had I known then what I know now ... would I still have taken the chance, or would I have the chance pass me by?

Just before Henry left, I went to a divorce support group and after he left I went a couple more times and realized that I didn't fit in there. Then I went to a grief support group once and realized I didn't belong there either. Although I still grieve my son, I also grieve for Henry and the enormous hole in my life where he should be.  Had I known then what I know now ... would I still have taken the chance, or would I have the chance pass me by?

In 2013, when I landed in the hospital for a pelvic mass that was initially diagnosed as cancerous, I contacted Henry to let him know what was happening. To say I was scared would be an understatement. I was completely terrified. Then having to wait several days for surgery while the doctor's completed additional testing only compounded that terror.  If I had known then what I know now, would I still have taken the chance, or would I have let the chance pass me by?

Later, after I was discharged from the second hospital, I looked back and realized that if anything could bring Henry to my side, it should have been that. Sadly, it didn't. If I had known then what I know now, would I have taken the chance, or would I have let the chance pass me by?

Still, not knowing what keeps him away, and why he left in the first place, has been a source of frustration for me and as much as I have (practically) begged for the reasons, none are forthcoming. Another source of frustration for me. If I had known then what I know now, would I still have taken the chance, or would I have let the chance pass me by?

Yesterday I was talking with a co-worker and told her the story of how Henry and I met and she thought that was so cool.  I told Henry from the beginning that he was too good to be true and that eventually the other shoe would drop and he'd be gone. He assured me over and over and over again that that would never happen. And I fought him HARD in the beginning because I had heard those assurances and promises and pinky-swears from others and it always ended before it began. If I had known then what I know now, would I still have taken the chance, or would I have let the chance pass me by?

I know Henry sacrificed just about everything for Jake, and I know that he sacrificed a lot for Hunter and me. If I had known then what I know now, would I still have taken the chance, or would I have let the chance pass me by?