From 2014: Every single day…

My mother was asked by someone fairly close to her, if she still thought about me after all this time.  The title was the immediate answer.  Stop and think about what that means to a mother.  To me, it means that not only did she think about me, she would have wondered if I was okay, healthy, happy, sad, even if I was alive. I can only begin to imagine the level of pain she lived with, because without knowledge, I doubt that she would think only good thoughts, not have any worries about the life I was living, rather, they would include if I was living, what my new family was like, was I loved, was I okay. I compare her words with the length of time I thought of my son every single day – before I had days, and then, weeks go by without thinking about my son after he passed. That transition happened long before the first decade had passed and having lived through that, I can’t imagine the pain that stretched decades, day in, day out, no relief, no forgetting. It’s incomprehensible, and makes tears roll down my face just thinking about it.

 

Twas the day before Christmas Eve…

And I think an open thread might be a good idea for those who just want a space to chat, whether it’s about the holidays past or present, or you just want to hang out with friends who get it.  Talk about joy, sadness, hope, memories, favorite movies, what you’re doing, things that went right this year, even if you’re just feeling Bah Humbug or want to just say Hi and Merry Christmas to all. 

 

Holiday open thread…

I love and hate the Christmas Holidays.  Some years we decorate, some, I can’t be bothered to start pulling out all the boxes, sorting through and picking out what to display.  This year, we decorated.  I had to force myself from putting it off until it was too late, but I’m glad I pushed through and it’s done.

 

What should I do?

Asking for some outsider common sense advice to a conundrum I’m too close to.  I can’t say I’ll take it, but it will give me food for thought that might help.

 

Every single day…

By TAO

My mother was asked by someone fairly close to her, if she still thought about me after all this time.  The title was the immediate answer.  Stop and think about what that means to a mother.  To me, it means that not only did she think about me, she would have wondered if I was okay, healthy, happy, sad, alive.  I can only begin to imagine the level of pain she lived with because without knowledge, I doubt that she would think only good thoughts, not have any worries about the life I was living, rather, they would include if I was living, what my new family was like, was I loved, was I okay.  I compare her words with the length of time I thought of my son every single day – before I had days, and then weeks go by – without thinking about my son.  That transition happened long before the first decade had passed, and having lived through that, I can’t imagine the pain that stretched decades, day in, day out, no relief, no forgetting.  It’s incomprehensible, and makes tears roll down my face just thinking about it.