Life’s not the breath you take, but the moments that take your breath away. – George Strait
We backed out of the driveway together. He went his way. I went mine. A few minutes down the highway and the tears were flowing a fluidly as they had a two years ago.
A song was about a father and son was the trigger. Singing about decisions this man makes to adjust a work schedule (or other) in order to be present at an event (baseball game, etc.) and the huge impact that this seemingly small act has on his son. I listened and remembered how life was for us before the trials of the past few years.
I never did tell him how much loss I felt after his father died. It was more than the obvious losing my husband. Imagined or not, I felt like I was losing my relationship with him too. Yet, I never said a thing. Nor did I make any steps of my own. I guess I figured that he needed to push back for a while. My therapist had a field day on this one.
The thing is, I sort of understood the importance of him turning his attention to his only surviving parent. I reminded myself that I am not his blood. I am his mother only by marriage.
The glue that once held us together felt like it was being eaten away. BoBo seemed to be the last of the glue, and my sending him to live on the islands was the final blow. Although all of us thought it necessary (DD included), further scattering of the family left us with no clear central meeting point. Even I, this past Christmas, did not want to remain in an environment where the brokenness of the family was so evident.
But this visit was different. With BoBo’s return, complimented by a new man in my life, I am a happier woman. The house feels more like a home these days. There is fun & games, music & magic, and many small thing which add up to a whole lot of wonderful moments.
Although things are very different from before, I have a good feeling that our cars will be coming together more often now in both my driveway and his – which is good.