He always came home in May

Justin always came home in May. It did matter how far away the boy was, he came home, sometimes by plane, once by train…but he came home. The last May he was home was May 20th, 2010.  He came home by train, Doug and I picked him up at Union Station. I remember like it was yesterday. We hit traffic and I was so eager to see him. We walked through the crowded station, past the police dogs, thousands of people milling about, and then, there he was.  Patiently standing with an enormous back pack full of books, no clothes, just books. Dark curls long and tousled, and my breath caught, I always had to stifle down crying when first laying eyes on him.  We had not seen him since January 2, 2010 and we missed him so.  Justin was  gentle, kind, a kindred spirit.  He was thin and pale, tired, but smiling.

We were into our 14 month of unemployment, we never thought Doug would be out of work for so long and prospects were pretty bleak.  We lived off our retirement savings and were trying to stretch that as thin as possible. We stopped at our favorite Chinese restaurant on the way home from Union Station.  It was somewhat defiant and irresponsible, to eat out when money was so tight, but it was  a tradition for us to do that whenever Justin came home.  Justin didn’t care that things were so simple and sparse…he was happy with just being home.  I don’t believe I have ever known anyone so contented within themselves with such simplicity, a good book, furry cats, and a decent cup of tea.  We wandered the rose hedge that May, planted basil, and talked for hours.  He would catch up on sleep, my heart can still see him wandering out in his flannel lounge pants, old college t-shirt.  He would always be accompanied by cats, they would hear his footfall and appear out of no where to share his breakfast, lay in his book, scold him for being gone so long.

He would share about his life in South Dakota, his experiences teaching, the projects he worked on as a research assistant, his thesis for his master’s project.  The cat who would come in to visit him at his apartment and then leave after a short time. I would love to hear he and Doug talk computers, it was way over my head, but it was a joy to hear them speak the same language.

May, full of memories, his college graduation…how can that be four years ago already?  May, you used to be so full of promise.

He stayed a week and then had to return to South Dakota.  We would not see him again until August, and that would be for the last time.  He died in a pond in Minnesota the end of September.

I am sad that we were so stressed about money and losing the house his last two visits home,  sad and angry…. he was so concerned for us even though we didn’t talk about it except to say that we were doing fine, that we would be okay.  Angry that we couldn’t  afford to travel out to South Dakota to see him, sad that the last time I got to see my sons together was December of 2009.

May makes me sad, perhaps one day it will not, but for today there is naught but heartache for a son that was ripped from our lives and has left a ragged edge that seems to never heal, but always be angry and welted.