The Sometime Joy of Miscommunication…

Doug and I have become masters at the one minute date, you’ve heard of the one minute manager right, we have the one minute date down to a science. Alright sometimes its longer than a minute, but how long does it take to go to the farm market 1/10th of a mile away to get tomatoes?  I was waxing philosophically about “age and experience”, that it had its benefits…Doug thought I said “Asian Experience”, we happily talked for five minutes about totally unrelated topics and were quite content.

People sometimes ask if we speak of Justin…“Hhmm, not so much” I reply.  But in reality every word we speak to each other is filled with silent pleading.  Each insignificant word is really a deep lament to the other of “our boy is gone, how can that be?” and the answering cry “I know, I miss him so”….hidden entreaties for consolation masked in generalities of the weather.

There are so many things to be learned in marriage, the most feared is the lesson of grieving a child, for us a beloved son. A child who we waited for, prayed for, weren’t sure we would have…the anticipation of maybe now…the delirious joy of finally…and then there he was, and our lives

were never the same, we were not the same.  Twenty five years of parenting together, now all of a sudden we are having to live without part of our hearts. We are still his parents….it is always an awkward moment when at a public function and you are asked if you have children and the ensuing conversation eventually leads to declaration of the death of one…your conversant is never sure of what to say, you quickly engage them in a topic of their child…but it is awkward, conversation from there on out is stilted…people hesitant to engage in further conversation.

We just returned from Doug’s company picnic, it was important to go, and a lot of work was put into making it as pleasant as possible even with the tropical storm weather. It is hard to explain the huge expenditure of energy that it takes to go out into public. I totally understand now why a time of mourning was observed in another era, it was in charity for those who grieved.  When you have no reserves, to engage and meet people, to make conversation, smile…it creates a deficit, our minds are still so bruised. Today is the 11 month anniversary of Justin’s death and it is a difficult day. To go from carefully tending your son’s grave in the morning to mix with a crowd of people with loud music in the afternoon is surreal, it is as if the most discordant chord is playing in your head over and over.

I am pretty good about keeping “it” all together…whatever “it” is. One grieving mother referred to herself as a “high functioning disaster…all together on the outside while there is a silent scream happening internally.”

But at the picnic today there was a little boy, about 3 years old.  A little Christopher Robin,darling sweater, little rain boots, light soft hair that curled at the nape, he caught my eye and ducked his head on his daddy’s shoulder and then peeked out at me from long lashes. It was like my own little Christopher Robin, he looked so much like Justin.  I could feel that familiar storm behind my eyes, and my prayer was  “please no, God, not here, not here where I don’t know anyone”….it is excruciatingly painful to be in public at times. I think that is the hardest thing to try and explain to people,to be out in public is physically painful sometimes and you don’t bounce back in a few hours, its exhausting.  You see, the anxiety that builds about becoming “emotional” is very real…grief is a stalker…it waits for you and strikes when you least expect a hit. We have to allow people time to grieve and know that grief lasts a lifetime.

God continues to show his mercy though, we have seen Ryan for three weekends in a row, what a blessing to have him back east. How wonderful to see him, to find out what he is like as an adult. Hating that moment when he has to leave for Philly, knowing that this hug could be your last, having the promise of seeing him next weekend.  Wanting to say so much, and not being able to speak at all for the tears that hover and threaten to spill, hoping that the unspoken is understood.

We slipped away from the party, it is always good to have a plan in place for a swift exit…to stretch a rubber band past its point usually ends unpleasantly…so we said a few goodbyes and drifted off. We have that fade thing down to a science. Grateful for the relative privacy of the vehicle to finally let tears slide down, grateful to come home to our fluffy cats. You can feel your body sigh with relief, the knots in your stomach slowly untangle, home, the land of pajamas and soft lighting.

So we will keep going to the farmer’s markets and speak of unrelated topics, it is actually engaging in a dance of grief where neither one of us knows the steps or the rhythm, but we keep dancing, we just have to keep trusting that we aren’t dancing alone.