A Mother’s Reason

I remember Thomas.

I remember The Polar Express.

I remember all the Geo Trax sets that we would put together.

I remember trying to teach you about believing that you can do anything as long as you put your mind to it, just like in The Little Train That Could.

There were so many trains in your childhood.

It is pretty funny that sailboats were your bedroom nursery theme. Do you remember that?

Nineteen years later, I genuinely mean it when I tell you I wish to squish you. I would squish you back to two. I never had terrible twos with you. You were such a happy baby boy.

2024 has been the most challenging year for me since your Grandma died. I don’t say this to hurt or make you feel bad.

I say this so you understand the love that I have inside me for you. I tell you, I love you every day. We have never lacked in showing love for each other. I feel fortunate that you haven’t gotten embarrassed to give me hugs or kisses on my forehead.

This year, you left me. Twice.

The first time in January, I felt like my world was crumbling. My mind was filled with many thoughts about what could happen to you.

I felt okay the second time. I knew you would be with the same person you were with the first time you left.

It was easier to believe that you were safe.

The first time you left, you told me you would move to Canada by the end of this year.

That's why the first time you left was so hard. The house and your room were empty. I knew that time was running out and that you would soon go out on your own and find happiness away from me.

The hardest part of your absence in January was that you didn’t need me.

You barely called me- I had to push you to do that.

In all your life, you have never been away from me (until this year) more than a night at a time (when I worked the graveyard shift), aside from when you went to Lake Tahoe with family.

I am afraid of you leaving. I am so scared of you being without me.

I am at a loss with my thoughts of being without you.

Since you were born, you have been my everything.

Before taking any direction in our lives together, I always considered your safety and happiness.

No matter what happened, I have continued to be strong because of my love for you, and we have always been okay.

Your Grandma died, and you were only a year old. I knew that I had to provide for you and succeeded in always moving our circumstances up by continuing to push myself to advance my career.

I have sucked in tears and put on a stoic face to be your hero, hopefully.

I remember years ago, as a teenager in foster care, going outside on the pool slide and thinking and writing about things.

I didn’t push my feelings aside as much as I do now.

Since your Grandma died, I feel like I have been in survival mode.

When the only Dad you have ever known died on 8/27/22, that just made me feel like it was even more critical to hold everything together for us.

I know it sounds wrong, but I didn’t cry for him two years ago- not for very long. I couldn’t let you see me entirely fall apart.

I knew you needed me.

I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to be an example of someone who doesn’t give up. I wanted you to know that everything was going to be okay.

As long as I had you, I would be okay.

I remember you saying to me at seventeen years old, soon after he died, “I have to grow up. I am the man of the house now.”

You have become that Man.

I must support your decision to start a new life in a new country. I can’t be selfish.

I can’t tell you that it’s easy.

Now I know how my Momma felt when we left her.

My hurt is loud. I don’t know how to get away from it now. I have not cried like this in forever.

I broke down last night after you and I talked.

I let you do most of the talking.

I just cried and told you you better not ever die on me.

You promised me you wouldn’t. You pinky swore. SMH.

You were talking to me about how you feel guilty about leaving me.

I tell you not to.

I want you to be happy; I want to know that you will be safe.

Maybe your leaving is what you and I both need, but even writing that hurts me so deeply.

I fear myself and what I am doing—writing all this and giving it to the universe.

I am afraid of this crying stuff, this emptiness and loneliness.

This year (according to Astrology) was supposed to be challenging for me in dealing with feelings. Chiron in Aries brings up past wounds and makes you deal with emotions that you have buried.

I have to figure these things out.

So yes, if looking at the planets helps me understand what I am dealing with, I will look to the stars.

The most excellent motivational speakers discuss the need for a reason. My Son has been my reason since he was born. I didn’t want to work for a salary, and I didn’t want to work like a crazy person for someone else.

I always wanted my Son to be proud of me, to see and remember me as I remember my Mom. Was that the best thing? I am still determining. I remember missing my Mom. She worked so much.

I missed out on a lot with my Son because I worked so much.

Was all that really for him, or was it for me to feel good about myself?

There are so many things I look back on and could question whether I did right or wrong.

Supposedly, boys need to separate from their Mothers to become men.

Mothers need to separate from their kids to survive after they leave home.

I lived alone when I was younger, and I enjoyed being alone. I fell in love with the self-discovery and self-development that occurred when I was alone.

I have to remember what it was like when I was the why.

I have to remember that I am enough of a reason.

You, my Son, will also still forever be my why.

I do have to be okay without you.

In truth, it hurts my heart so much to write this, but you must be okay without me, too.

I have to be strong and healthy to live to be here for you for as long as possible, just in case (I hope) you still need me.

Live and take risks like I did.

I know that is what your heart wants.

I believe in you.