Mari sadness rating: HIGH. Might want to bypass this one, but I need to say it now.
Talking about boundaries in the last post has given me the impetus to pull this out of my drafts. I’ve spoken about my son leaving, although I haven’t spoken about the things he did before he left and what has been happening since… or what has led to my almost silence in the last week.
I won’t talk about behaviours, or right and wrong. Boundaries. We all have a right to choose what kind of life we want to live. My son has gone and we are removing each other from our respective lives. Why? I can’t live with my heart wide open and let him put a knife in it every time his girlfriend gets upset with the world. He can’t live happily in his new life knowing I really don’t like his girlfriend’s behaviours.
Boundaries. We have both set our boundaries. I don’t want to live a life walking on eggshells wondering when the next bit of abuse comes. He doesn’t want anyone in his life who can’t love his girlfriend. Sadly, the number of people in his life is getting smaller and smaller.
I haven’t wanted to write about this. I suppose I’ve been feeling enough judgement from people around me, along with my own feelings of failure. Can I see the last almost 20 years as anything but a fail cake when at the end of it my son tells me he wants nothing to do with me and that I will never be a part of his child’s life? Yes, I’m to be a grandmother, at least technically. As a mother, I can’t help feeling a failure. I can’t help looking at myself strangely, as other people do, wondering what kind of monster I am that my son feels the way he does.
Acceptance be stuffed. Choices be stuffed. Being on our own paths be stuffed.
I miss my son and he’ll never know how heart-broken I am. That every child is a miracle and I would love his child as an extension of him. Maybe when he holds his child for the first time he’ll suspect how I feel, how his whole family feels. Maybe. For now, there’s nothing I can do..
I loved you from the moment I knew you were coming. I was frightened and unsure of what the future would bring. All I did know was… you mattered. You were a miracle. You I would keep safe. You I would love.
And love you I did. Love you I still do.
I sit here and try to imagine a life without you being a part of it and I can’t. You were always a part of my life, a part of my future.
Now you have a new family, a family you have chosen, a family you plan a future with. I wish I knew why you feel you can’t keep the family you had as well. The family who loved you from your first moments. The family who loves you still and grieves your leaving.
When you hold your child in your arms for the first time in September, know how I felt the first time I held you, know how your grandparents felt and know that I’ll love this child, you’ve said I’ll never see, as a part of you.
For now, I give you your wish and I’ll step away and let you live your new life with your new family. The door is always open.
Sigh. That’s for me, since I’ll never send it. It would just create problems.
I sometimes wonder how much pain that we call heartbreak do we need to feel before the heart really does stop? Somehow there has to be a reason to keep waking up, there has to be a reason for this pain. For now I suppose I should be happy that I can feel this pain. That gives me hope.