Son’s Recovery Slow But Enlightening

I started a new job Monday. Thank God, too… it is good therapy. Dylan is taking care of himself now, making his own meals, recovering on his own weird ’sleep-all-day, stay-up-all-night’ pace. Whatever works for him. We converted our extra bedroom into a recording studio for him to use, even though we already have another studio set up on our property. He uses computers. We play through amps. We are so old school. Our musical tastes have such a wide range, my son turned to jazz in rebellion. But I have to give him credit. He’s turned me onto some really great music, and being a drummer, I am in awe of his ability to figure out the complex, progressive rhythms.

It is such a joy to watch him recovering, after being sick for so long. It has been hard, but just like dealing with any adversity, it has made me stronger. I have discovered how much patience I actually do have. I have learned empathy for others with sick children, and find gratitude in the fact that my child is doing well. I have experienced the kindness and caring of friends, co-workers and strangers. I have learned to live with the fact I cannot expect the same from my family or my husband’s family. I have accepted that this is our burden, and blessing, to struggle with and learn from.

I am a better person because of Dylan… when he was born, I grew up. I also knew what unconditional love felt like for the first time in my life. And I watched in awe as he suffered, knowing that I would not be nearly as cool if I were in that situation. And even though Dylan will be 17 this month, his illness made me overprotective… I’m sure he would just call it annoying. But that’s ok. He can roll his eyes all he wants… at the end of the day, I know he loves me. We make each other laugh… we have long conversations about politics, music, movies and books. We get really competitive at Scrabble. We have enough in common to keep us close.

I am beginning to see all the love my husband and I have shown him being repaid now, even at this age. He is very protective of me, and comes and hugs me if I am sad. After all the years of comforting him, it feels good to have him wrap me in his long, warm arms. It feels rewarding. But it isn’t all just about me. I believe the sickness taught him compassion.

I’m slowly realizing that he is on the threshold of manhood, and I can let him go, although it will be a little bit at a time. I feel sad that his childhood was interrupted when Crohn’s disease thrust him into a world of pain, fear, medication, doctors and hospitals…. But, on the other hand, I am comforted by his endurance, grace under pressure, and maturity. Not that he doesn’t get frustrated and angry. But he told me he stopped asking “why?” a long time ago. He said it was the same as wondering why he wasn’t born in a third world country. He is very wise. And I am very lucky. 

 

 

The Greener Grass

I remember hearing a comic say that when you are single, all you see are couples. When you are married, all you see are whores. Or something like that.

I sure know that when you’ve been married 22 years, you think that there must be wonderful things about being single that you are missing out on. Freedom, an exciting social life, dating new, exciting people and sleeping around. But there is something else married people are missing. Crushing loneliness.

Of course, if your spouse runs off with someone else or dies, you have no choice. But my husband is sleeping at his brother’s. Why? Because he did something I didn’t like and I am a vicious bitch who won’t let it go.

We are really sick of  arguing with each other. Sick of life. Sick of our running streak of bad luck, including the stress of having a teenager with a chronic illness. I don’t see how we’ve made it this long, actually. And it this point, it could go either way.

But there’s a part of me, the part that hates change, the girl that married at 20, that misses her groom. People change, people have all kinds of crisis, not just the mid-life kind, and people do stupid things. Do you throw away half a lifetime over what, in the big picture, are probably small things? A lot of people do. Some fall out of love. I wish I knew what was happening to us. I don’t. I only know I wish he was here, even if just to ignore me talking. Apparently I am set in my ways.

I wonder what will happen if he doesn’t come home. He might be able to move on, but I feel sort of paralyzed. On the other hand, if he does come home, I want to feel happy about it. I want to be thrilled. I want him to love me enough to marry me all over again. Most of all, I want to be worthy of it. I want to make him happy too. I just have this fear of an awkward silence, a moment when we realize there isn’t anything left to build on, the sadness of walking away. It would hurt less to just stay alone. I am afraid of high hopes. You know what happens when you fly too close to the sun.

Going Solo

I thought when my husband moved out I was ready. We have lived apart before. Our relationship was barely civil. Everyone was avoiding each other. He was miserable and so was I. Our son just retreated from us both.

He came by today to grab some musical equipment. Off teaching guitar to our nephew. He hadn’t been showing much interest in playing music (with me, anyway) so I guess it is bittersweet to see. I can feel him pulling away. I know he’s thinking about moving on, more than coming back. I think he’s happier.

And the loneliness is setting in. We just had our 22nd anniversary, so just the thought of starting over seems strange. Being single. Dating? Probably not. Although I get a lot of attention from younger men, and I like that, I am not ready for more than a booty call. I don’t mind being the MILF at the grocery store or wherever, getting a second look or a comment. Even a phone number. Usually I am surprised, flattered and my ego is fed, but I am going through more reality than these kids could ever handle.

Dylan is looking at least four more months of recovery from his surgery. His moods swing, but he’s almost 17. Surprise. We are communicating and our relationship is good, but he’s also not too worried about what Mom is up to. He’s feeling better, recording his music. Meanwhile, I need to find a job with benefits, but I just can’t think right now.  Trying to get used to Stephen not coming in after work is distracting me. I feel kind of numb and sad. I just feel quiet, and ready to cry a lot.

It’s hard to let go of the only life you’ve ever known. I am used to being half of a team, and even though my wedding ring has been off my finger for awhile, I am not embracing the idea of being single. I guess I am just beginning to accept it.