Facing The Past And Looking Forward

Today is my son’s 17th birthday. What a difference a year makes.

Last year, my husband, son and I were in a Destin, Florida townhouse on the bay celebrating his birthday with his first lobster. Laying by the pool, feeling the sun on our faces. A life taken for granted. A life now gone.

Today, my husband and I are not together, and divorce is down the road. I was downsized for a second time, and just started ANOTHER job. Between my unemployment and the high cost of living, all our money is gone… there won’t be any more trips for a long time. I am broke until I get my first paycheck Friday.

My son Dylan is recovering from a much-needed surgery, which is the only silver lining in the dark clouds I face every time I stop and let myself think. 

I know that analyzing yesterday isn’t as important figuring out tomorrow. But it is overwhelming. After 22 years of security, contentment, love and companionship, it’s hard to just see one car in the driveway. When Stephen was in Ohio, I knew he was coming home. This time he isn’t.

The details of all that led up to this seem trivial now; they are the same things that break up marriages every day… because while all divorces are different, they are essentially the same. They are the end. They hurt. They are the death of a family.

I watch my son shutting out his father, but there is a conflict I cannot fix. I cannot heal their relationship. I can only hope that one day they find their way back to each other. Tonight, Stephen is coming by to see Dylan for his birthday, but I don’t know what to expect. I can only hope at some point, they can be close again.

For me, it’s the letting go that’s hard… not so much saying goodbye to the past, but losing dreams I shared with Stephen, for our future. That is what I grieve the most. Knowing that next year, when my son is feeling better, the three of us won’t be back in Destin to have more lobster. And all the other things we will never do. It breaks my heart.

But like I said, what a difference a year makes. After everything life has taught me, I wouldn’t dare guess what could happen by the time he turns 18. I just know with time, I feel… I hope… and I HAVE TO BELIEVE that as he recovers, my heart will also mend. And we’ll both be able to see through the clouds. Maybe even feel the sun on our faces again. 

 

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. 

 

 

Late Justice For Megan Better Than None

Maybe Megan Meier’s parents will sleep a little better tonight. Maybe, finally, there will be a moment of peace amidst the storm that began with their 13 year-old daughter’s suicide. Death, and I would think the suicide of a child, would naturally alter the lives of the parents. But this case seems more tragic because it was so senseless.

This girl took her life due to the inconceivable acts of an adult, an adult who should have known better… an adult claiming to be looking for gossip, hiding in the vast shadow of the Internet. An adult posing as a an attractive 16 year-old boy named Josh. This boy, who didn’t exist, chatted with Megan nevertheless. He was sweet at first. She developed a crush on this boy. And when “Josh” turned ugly, it was more than the already troubled teenager could bear. It pushed her to kill herself.

Almost everyone with a television has heard about this case by now. Megan’s parents, after a year of keeping silent, waiting and letting investigators do their job, saw that clearly nothing would be done. I remember their media campaign to warn other MySpace users and clueless parents, if nothing else, to be careful.

Now that charges have been brought against Lori Drew, she will finally have to answer for her cruelty. She has already been all but ostracized in her community. And now she has been charged with one count of conspiracy, and a curious three counts of accessing protected computers without authorization to obtain information to inflict emotional distress on the victim. If that means what I think it does, she went to a lot of trouble to play around with this young girl’s mind. There may be a lot more to the story than we know.

Time and a prosecution will bring out all the details, and I hope Lori Drew pays for her premeditated, irresponsible and deadly actions. Most of all though, like Megan’s parents, I hope it serves as a warning and a deterrent. Internet harassment is rampant, especially among teens, who use it as just another form of bullying. Maybe this will begin a dialogue on how this kind of harassment can be stopped.

There should never be another young girl who hangs herself in her closet. Especially because someone told her the world would be better off without her. While the world is not better without Megan Meier, in some way, maybe she can save someone else.

Rest in peace, Megan.