Grieving Someone Who Is Still Living

I want to text about the game, about a call, a penalty, a play...then I remember I can't.  I want to send a screenshot of a funny meme.  I remember something and want to text about it.  

I recall memories gone by..."The muffin pan, the muffin pan..." Every. Single. Time. I get in the closet and see my muffin tins.  

Every single time it rains, do you know I hear a little voice singing, "Rain, rain, go away, come aday another gain" in my head?

You changed my life.  You SAVED my life.  I was going to end it.  I didn't want to live.  Feeling your little feet kicking inside my tummy is why I didn't.  The ONLY reason I didn't.  I could do that to me.  I couldn't do that to you.  You deserved a chance.

I tried so hard.  I was young.  I know 21 isn't as young as many moms, but at 48 I can say that 21 is young.  I didn't have the patience.  I didn't know to appreciate things in the moment that I look back on and savor now.  But you were my entire world.  I married someone I thought would be a good dad to you because I wanted you to have everything you deserved, and in my mind that meant a mommy, a daddy, a  house, meals together, two cars in the driveway, and the bills paid every week.  

That guy, he gave us that for 3 years, and I loved you so much, that every black eye and swollen temple was worth it to me as long as you were being taken care of the way I wanted you to be taken care of.  But when he told me I couldn't read you a story before bed, when he told me you couldn't have your nightly "Little Critter" book read to you, that's when it got ugly.  I ignored him.  He could do whatever he wanted to me, but I would not let him interfere with the bond between you and me, and bedtime stories were part of that bond. When he hit me in front of you, with your toy, your plastic golf club across my upper back, when you saw the way his eyes turned black and his face turned to rage, that's when I knew I needed a new plan.  When I still didn't leave your side, when I stayed in your room, composed myself, and continued reading, and he came back with a knife in his hand, that was the beginning of the end.  Protecting you was all that mattered.  From the moment I saw that positive pregnancy test, that's all that ever mattered.

When you were three, I met someone who loved me and adored you instantly, and he married me and adopted you and gave you two brothers and together we gave you a little sister who literally turned your eyes into sparkly little hearts, and I thought I'd finally gotten everything I'd ever dreamed of having.  And for while it was.  It really, really was...

As you got older, I know our ideas of me protecting you were a lot different, but that's all I ever tried to do.  I just wanted to see you do great things.  I wanted to support you in everything you wanted to do, I wanted to help you blossom and grow. I wanted to protect you from paths I felt were not the best for you, even if you disagreed with me.  I still do, even today, even when you're now all grown up...as a mother, I don't think that ever probably changes....

You didn't see the bills that were paid late so you could have the bat you wanted or the uniform that had to be paid for or the cleats you needed.  You didn't realize the pay advances Dad had to ask for to cover hotels for an out of state tournament or to cover gas and meals for 3 days on the road every weekend. And you shouldn't have seen those things because that wasn't your burden to bear, and as parents we do what need to do to give you the opportunities we can give you to thrive and to succeed.  In return, respecting those sacrifices rather than considering them irresponsible choices is how you show gratitude.  

Parenting is hard.  Really, really hard.  And expensive. And filled with regrets.   And what ifs.  And if onlys.  And time goes really fast and no matter how much you try to appreciate each moment, it's gone before you know it, and you only have the memories.

So I will sing "The muffin pan, the muffin pan," and I will think "Blue Dog" every time I see "Pluto" and I will achingly hold back the urge to text about the game and the crap calls and the funny memes, and I will hope and pray that someday an understanding of perception vs intent will be reached because Time is a selfish thief in this short life of ours.