This weekend was supposed to be monumental. We were supposed to move Jaidon into Towson University. I could see it at his graduation in June. Jess would be in tears, the girls would be arguing (and being sad to see him go), I would be lifting and moving things. Jaidon, was going to take his real first step to independence and adulthood. I was dreading him going, but so excited.
This weekend, we were supposed to be the extra proud parents. It was our pictures we were going to post on Facebook, showing him moved into his dorm with his roommate. Him begging us to leave and us reluctantly doing so. On the way home, we would laugh, cry, and imagine what he was doing, other than being on his computer. We would get home and wonder when he would come home. Hopefully, we would see him before Thanksgiving.
This weekend, we got none of that. We woke up, like we have done everyday since the accident, in a fog. We looked on Facebook, but this time, we got to see all of our friends posting about dropping their children off at various colleges and universities. We got to see their children looking at their parents, knowing they are starting their adult lives and gaining their independence. It is so hard. On the outside, I smile. On the inside, I am jealous and angry. Not that it matters. It still isn’t the hardest thing I have ever been through, that was June 9th.
I sit in my house tonight and wonder if the silence from his bedroom would have made me feel happy, proud, sad, or a mixture of it all. The silence in his bedroom has been deafening for 10 weeks.
Tomorrow, I get to start the new school year by returning for our pre-service week. I have absolutely no real desire to do this. I am not excited, happy, or the least bit ready to go back. I know there are amazing people at my school who have shown me support this entire time, but I still want to crawl under a rock.
The word that comes to mind in all of this is fuckery. Thanks to a co-worker of Jess’s for this word. That is all my world has been for 10 weeks.
Because there is no other way to describe our lives. We can’t be happy without feeling bad, can’t cry without feeling guilty. If I feel sad, it makes me need to try and recover for the girls and yet I need to feel all of it. It is all fuckery.
I feel alone in this, but know that there are so many others that go through this every single day. It is definitely not the club one wants to be a part of. It is fuckery.