Today I packed up 30 years of memories and photographs and put them away. It was necessary, because my office situation is changing and I need the space. Truth be told, I need the space in my head, too.
Ten years ago, my beautiful 19 year old son, Jordan, died from a self-inflicted gunshot. My son was bi-polar, and his life had become both unmanageable and painful, beyond his ability and desire to continue. He left behind a younger brother and two little sisters, as well as a heartbroken Mom. We all struggled with the sorrow, grief, and stigma, and I am embarrassed to admit I hid under my bed with a bottle far too long. Eventually, life reached in and drug me out, because little girls always need hugs and hairdos, and sudden big brothers need a freakin' break from responsibilty. Eventually my marriage ended, because no one like a sad girl, right?
But now my life is good. I have beautiful, productive, loving adult children that make me proud to be their Mom every day. I don't know if they're awesome because of or in spite of me, but it doesn't really matter. They're awesome.
So today I packed away 30 years of our lives, with tears and sobs, but not because I miss the way it was. I miss the way it should have been. And now it's time to make room for the rest of our lives, just the way they are. I figure I have a few hours left til dawn to cry, then I'll pull up my socks and get on with the business of living. And maybe pie.
