The universe in my sons

The universe in my sons

For those maybe not in the loop, you read correctly: sons. 538 days ago, we had to give our first son back to God. The void in me since that day, my last day with Michael is deep, wide and at times still as jagged as the moment Ty told me our son was gone. Adoption again was not even on our radar. But over 4 months ago on one of those nights where Michael’s presence was overwhelming but the sense of his absence so smothering, we opened up to one another. We were not sure what life held for us but we talked, agreeing that we believed if we were to have more children, it would manifest and not be sought out or manufactured. Like Michael, if our parenting journey was not done, family would create for us. Two months ago we got a call very different but yet so familiar: “His name is Austin, would you guys go meet him, and we feel like this, you all, are the best fit for each other….

I have said it, wrote and shared it. The day Michael opened the door of his foster home. I understood God. When they opened up Austin’s door that same feeling of peace and awe came again. With Michael my walls of doubt crumbled, I knew I was and could always be the mother he needed, wanted, deserved. Seeing Austin on his bed my walls crumbled again, knowing no part of me was losing Michael by opening up again and that my other son needed, wanted and deserved everything I felt in my heart for him. That this too was my son and like Mike I had being waiting for him without even realizing it.Wistful I cannot raise them together however they both are chambers in my heart. And without them both, I cannot be whole. Someday Austin may stumble across this blog and reinforce for him that even in the beginning I saw him, no file, not fear, him. 

My sons are mirror opposites but share a thread of resiliency, humor and grace that I do not know I could have found inside myself if I had lived their younger lives. In both of them infinite possibilities and beauty. You say your children are your life, I do not think that is true, to be a parent worthy of your children, you must have a life of your own, you must be yourself: centered, humored, and healing. I think children are, or at least my sons to me, my universe. Something primal, expanding and connecting to purpose. That may seem like a lot to put on a child but it’s not. You build a life, create a life, and get a life. To say your child is your life is a pressure for them to complete you, to enforce something in you. When I say my sons are my universe, like it, they just are. They are the part always with me, present, without having to support me. As I expand the universe opens, it’s part of me but not responsible for me or my happiness. My job is to connect with the universe, to hold space and just be part of it, the universe flows in a natural rhythm. Sometimes smooth, often awkward, at times maddening. Yet once connecting to it, there is also joy, wonder, and love. Parenting, like the universe, incorporates the same things.

My sons, my universe is both above my head and under my feet. Celestial and grounding all at once. Michael in both life and death is the night sky. The stuff of impressionistic paintings, musing of philosophers and lovers. To know my son Michael is to go down a country road in a snow storm and stand still. The crisp air is both volatility and breathtaking and then you look up. And what seems like incomprehensible space and darkness is made welcoming by beautiful flecks of light. Stars that burn off their own power. Some like my son, fixed in his beliefs and values. Others falling, tracing light in the sky. Like his ideas, his movements, his power to bring lightness into darkness. To stare at the stars is reflection, wonder, and wish. To sit under the stars you hear your internal questions, desires and appreciation of the world in that moment. Michael lived for “that"moment.

Austin while I am not sure he knows it yet, or maybe still thinks I am bat shit crazy, is the ocean. His surface can be both clear and crystal or ruff and choppy. But underneath those waves or currents is a depth that is yet to be understood, explored, and celebrated. Austin has a musician’s soul, and like the ocean his rhythm, his motions, power creates ecosystems that cultivate harmony and mystery each layer you dive deeper. Without the ocean and its rhythm there will be no whale songs, no coral reefs, no ancient draw to explore a horizon. Austin is the cleansing breath you take on the shoreline, listening to water, feeling connected, forcing yourself to look deeper inward. He is that lapping of water that allows you to be comfortable in the silence, take pause and just be. I am honored he is willing to share those unexplored depths with us. He ebbs and flows and like the tide is not aware that with each touch he can change the landscape.

Day 538, in this world, I was a childless mother. Day 539 I am the mother of two wonderful sons. My universe connecting me to both of them, through wonder and pure love. So Michael kiddo as always until the next world mom loves and misses you so much. And Austin, we will get you home soon, we promise, we love and miss you and we will always be there.

Mom loves you my sons

8 days and we notice

One day about a year ago my son being a  teen hit a rough patch.Friend drama, relationship challenges, parent kid dynamics, it all hit him at once. Like all of us that age he had a period thathe was not as confident , not as happy. In that time he made a FB post that stated if he died that night would anyone notice?

In 8 days it will be one year since I hugged you, heard you, seen you . I can answer the question kiddo, we all have noticed. Every single one of us in your life, we feel the void. In almost year there has been one event dedicated to you, a scholarship founded in your name, 15 memorial tattoos I know of, over 100 you are on folks minds in social media posts and 17 I miss you emails in your in box. You are seen in rainbows, unicorns and our hearts. We find you in dreams, coins being moved and random glitter angel fly bye.

We notice love. Dad and I , family, friends we all are painfully aware.At times I think I am the one who is deceased and in hell. My hell living each day with this painful hole in my chest, my awareness that I outlived my child.

The what if is here and we notice sweetie.We love you .

Moving towards the year

Sometimes, I want to believe I am still dreaming. That I will be awake and hear you jamming in your room. Runner up wish that I wake up in the hospital after a long and messed up coma dream. But we all know that’s not real. The reality is you have been gone almost one year and all those in the wake of your passing still struggle in one way or another. Dad and I sometimes treading water, sometimes drowning in this ocean of grief. There are no poetic words for this, I just miss you kiddo, and part of me is no longer here.

I have learned a lot in this past year some good, some not so much, some in depths of faith I did not think I possessed. First off it is possible to cry every day for almost a year straight. Each tear either memory or cathartic. That in love and grief people can do some very unthoughtful or inappropriate they come from a place of love and helplessness. Let it go. At some point in your grief you will also lash out, be unthoughtful or inappropriate, hope folks can see they love and fear in you under that and move on with you.

So many times I have been reminded that other people lost my son as well. I know too well their grief. I can support them, Love them and listen to them. We can cry or laugh together. But I cannot own their grief or make it part of mine. Just as they are supporters of my journey, I am theirs but I will not compromise my own loss to work someone else steps. It sounds selfish but it’s not it is self-preservation and sanity. The put your own mask on before you help others. I cannot commune with people who love my son if I myself am an empty shell.

I am not moving on, just ahead.

 My goal once Mike came into our lives was to create love and safety like he never had experienced before and to walk and support his path of healing and growth. With our family and friends, we did that, we created a world where Mike’s job was self-discovery and growth. No judgments on the path he took and supportive of victories and even mistakes as learning tools. When I say I put everything into my son I am or had, I am not joking. My life became a mission to elevate his March 22, 2013 when he first opened that door and hugged me. Period, done deal that was my kid. My kid was not perfect and I never offer his memory up to martyrdom, we had a few blow outs, some he took off for a while. Each time we came back together the bond become deeper more intense as my actions and words matched for him. No matter what I love you and no matter what, I am here.I move ahead because I have to find in me the best parts of life so when I see my son next , my life was well lived and not wasted once he went away. Without him it’s hard, less light, less joy but I keep on until I figure it out.

I have been graced by God that the people in my life who are here are amazing and beautiful. That when I fall apart my son puts out a cosmic bat signal and the flood gates open. I receive articles, thinking of you or you have been on my mind. People force me out of my funks and have me go for a walk, get coffee or just be with others. My tribe is a gift and they keep me from drowning, as I come back to life my passion is to show them what words cannot express in my love for them.

I have also learned who I am by the dismissal of others. There has been some misunderstanding that because my son was not my birth child this bond was not as strong “as other parents” Different then birth moms sure but never any less. My role in this world was to stumble, fall, fuck up and be given another chance. I learned who I wanted to be not easily but I became it. Every part of me believes that God somehow instilled in me that all my life lessons was to be ready and strong. The woman who hates to be vulnerable will get this child who in life and death cracked open my chest and laid all my love, vulnerability and true self open for the taking. That my gift for becoming my true self was to be given this beautiful child, this peaceful warrior who came to us broken and abused. My life’s greatest purpose was to show my child how beautiful he was and allow him to heal in world full of light. My job was to create a community of joy that embraced my son, made him strong and when he passed he knew how much he was loved. That was my son’s heart’s desire to be loved unconditionally, and we all gave it to him. Birthing him did not need to be part of my plan. My child, Michael he was always God’s plan for me and me for him.   
 There I stood much in our life that says more to that than less. In some ways we were so similar, but vastly different but kiddo and I understood each other on a level that when we had quiet moments and talked about it astounded us. At times I overwhelmed him, he said so many times. After years of being told he was nothing, he had a mom and she thought, well I knew he was everything.