Missed Moments as I Move On

Hello. It’s been a long month, and I’ve missed you all.

I’m unpacking and moving on. And once again, I wish my son were there by my side. I wish this for many reasons – mostly because I want to hold his hand and guide him through life. I want to help insure he succeeds at something. I want to be sure he doesn’t stumble in my footprints. But, as usual, he chooses to go it alone.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked my son to come and meet me.

“Why don’t you come out around 1pm? I’ll meet you at the library.”

“The needle is between E and ¼ of a tank.”

“I’ll give you a few dollars of gas to get back home.” I hesitate as I tell him this; he needs to work harder to support himself. He says he is grown and mature, but the evidence shows no signs of this.

He made it out. We talked, we laughed, and I gave him some gas money.

“I can come out to help you tomorrow or Friday.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I have so much to do. And, my shoulder and knee hinder me from getting much done.”

Thursday, Friday and Saturday passed. No sign of Cameron. No explanation. Calls and texts unreturned. What does that mean? What is he thinking? Will he ever come around? Will he ever be there to show his support?

My anger and I moved again, and Cam made it to help. He said he would return a few days later to help and no Cam again. I even texted him to tell him that I was sick with a fever and needed juice and soup. No Cam still.

I may be ranting a bit. But, it is cathartic; ranting is how I vent, and I vent to hide my hurt. I vent to make myself feel better about losing a friend. I vent so I won’t strangle my son. I vent so that his girlfriend can live. Okay. Maybe I went too far there. All life is sacred. But, as I was saying, I vent to not be so angry.

It’s natural to assume that a mother and son would help each other move, so you can understand my disappointment. The root of my hurt is more about what’s obviously missing in our relationship. It may seem as if I only need him, what I truly long for is for him to realize we need each other.  A mother’s love is the only unconditional love. And, though he may think I have some pre-planned agenda for his life, I only want to see him succeed at doing something that he loves. I only want to see that he thrives in this complicated world we live in. I only want him to survive the beating that the world is likely to give him. And though we don’t have to take on this world together, if we were a team, it would be much simpler.

As I ponder our relationship status, I’m reminded of another Cheshire Patch blog. So, I share once again. Before I do, I must say one thing. I love my son more than life.

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The two of us together.

Is he a reflection of me?

I Miss My Best Friend

Posted on September 26, 2011 at 2:13 pm

‘I’m not alone. I’m not alone. It will get better. Things will work out. He will come to his senses.’

This cathartic mantra has become a daily routine. This is what I tell myself while I sit home wondering what my young adult son is doing with his life.

Will he eventually allow me to help get him on track? Will he dump that girl? Will he have that life he deserves? Is he eating? Does he have clean clothes?

As parents, we have to find a way to move on and let our kids make their own mistakes. From experience I can tell you that it’s hard. It’s really hard. But, sometimes we just have to believe. We think that if they don’t follow yesterdays plan that tomorrow can’t happen. This is not so.

I miss him. I miss my friend. Being a single parent, we spent most of our time together. We went to movies. We hung out at the library and bookstores. We went to the beach. We went hiking. We even traveled across country together. I miss him. I love him, but I have to move on.

We don’t always think about what it was like to grow up. We tend to forget that we too once only lived for the moment. We too thought we would outlive our youth.

Lately, I have come to some realizations about my parental expectations. I usually think that it is his way or my way. But now, I’m trying to live somewhere in between that. I’m gonna stand back, watch from a distance and let him know that when and if he falls and calls out to me that I will be there.

My birthday and Mother’s Day have come and gone and all I’m left with is a voicemail message. I just wish he could fathom the pain and the emptiness that I feel as I ponder his current predicament. Is he taking care of his needs? Is he really happy?

I’ve been trying to figure this out. What do I do? How do I deal? Who do I go to for these answers? Is it possible to get over wanting to be involved in my son’s day to day? NO.

I just have to wake up every day, put my clothes on and try to live each day to the fullest. Once I acknowledge my limitations, I can then move on to other priorities in my life. Everyone has things that they once put aside to be a parent. So, I get back to making that list – that what-do-I-want-to-do-when-I-grow-up list.

By putting aside my family struggles and unintentional shortcomings, my emotional load is lighter. I just need to add some more lines to my mantra. ‘Rebelling is natural. Growing up is okay. We can’t control our children’s lives. We can’t force our children to understand what they aren’t ready to see.’

Parents try and use their experiences to help foresee the approaching doom. We want to avoid having to watch our children stumble. Every once in a while we get lucky and some children heed our warnings. Other times, we just have to give them some space and hope that our nurturing and teachings have made enough of an impact for them to eventually flourish. Children do absorb more than we realize – it just takes time to simmer.

I can still remember when I first held my baby. He was wrinkly, long, cute and white with blue eyes. He was the sweetest thing that ever was born; with his tiny feet and powder soft skin.

I used to watch him sleep all the time – so peaceful and relaxing.

Now, oh what I would do just to stand in the doorway one more night and watch him sleep.

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But, in the meantime, I move on and take care of me. I love him. I miss him, but what about me?