It has been two
months since we lost Ryan. People ask me
how I’m doing and I still don’t know how to answer. The best way that I know how to describe it
is that I feel like a refugee. I’m just
walking and walking. I don’t know where
I’m going; I just know that I need to get away from where I’ve been.
I have returned to
school and when I’m busy, actively teaching, I’m OK. But once things are quiet “It” returns. I don’t know how to properly define “It.” It’s the feeling of loss, pain, fear, worry,
sorrow, anxiety – all rolled into one big emotion. It is a physical pain too. My head constantly throbs, my eyes burn, and
my chest feels like a train has run over it.
When I get home from school I physically ache all over. I take an Alleve or Tylenol and the aches
disappear followed by this intense shaking of my insides that won’t stop. I suppose it’s anxiety.
Getting the mail
has become a bittersweet task. I still
get beautiful cards and some of the kindest, sweetest letters but the other
mail comes too. I now get “official”
letters addressed to Ryan in care of me or they say “beneficiary of” or the
dreaded “next of kin.” The day that his
death certificates came in the mail was indescribably bad. I saw the big manila envelope with the funeral
home return address and I knew what it was.
I shook so badly that the envelope looks like it’s been chewed
open. I didn’t want to see it but I had
to look at it. Seeing his name on it was
so bad! I fell to my knees crying
uncontrollably. I cried until I couldn’t
even breathe. JC found me on the bed
shaking when he got home and quietly took the certificates away.
I have a clipboard
stacked with documents and tasks that I need to take care of. Ryan was 38 and had lived in California and been on his own for many
years. Until you’ve dealt with settling
someone’s affairs you don’t realize how many things have do be done. He had a life of his own. There are his business dealings, his
apartment, utilities, bank accounts, and since someone took things from his
apartment, I’ve had to call the DMV and all major credit bureaus to flag his
social security number. Then there are
my personal affairs that have Ryan listed as a beneficiary – and it’s
heartbreaking to remove his name. I have
had to call and order forms to change all those. I can only bear to take care of one item a
day – the emotional toll is too great.
There is still a large stack of papers on the clipboard. One of my friends asked me how I was going to
feel when the clip board is empty. I
don’t know. It will be another bittersweet situation.
Misty and I talk
daily and we alternate between crying and laughing. Every day we vow that this will be the day
that we move forward; but so far we haven’t kept that vow. We are struggling. You see, it was just us three for so many
years. We were a team trying to survive
with little money and many demands. My
parents helped us or we would probably have been on welfare, but my day to day
life as a single parent was so hard. I
had to be a mom, dad and breadwinner all rolled into one. Ryan filled in the gaps. He became Misty’s babysitter, father figure
and mentor. He walked her to her
classroom, helped her with her schoolwork, reminded her to do her chores and
disciplined her when I was working. Selfishly,
I wish that Ryan would have had a child.
I wanted a little dark haired, dark eyed grandchild. But in a way, Misty was his child. He helped
raise her as much as I did. Ryan started
working when he was 13. He cleaned
houseboats, pontoons, and bathrooms at the marina. After he turned 13 he pretty much took care
of all his needs as far as clothes and things.
He never complained. In high
school he went to school and worked two jobs.
In college there were times that he held 3 jobs and still graduated with
honors.
When the kids left
home they left behind many things. I have their toy boxes, a big football and a
strawberry, filled with their toys. I
have many Sterlite tubs labeled and filled with things they wanted to
keep. I don’t snoop through their
things. I’m a big proponent of respecting other people’s privacy. I share a lot but if I don’t share it, don’t
ask. And this is how I felt about my
kids’ privacy; but I needed to find some of Ryan’s papers from college so, I
opened his college “tubs.” While going
through them I was excited to find many things that I hadn’t known that he
saved. It was a treasure trove! I ran on to the following letter that he had
written to me the summer before his senior year of high school. I don’t know how it got in the college tub
and I think it was just meant for me to find it that day. He attended Arkansas Governor’s School and
had just competed his second week when he wrote me this letter. For those of you who aren’t familiar with
Governor’s School, it challenges the way kids think and forces them to consider
other options. Ryan was clearly struggling when he wrote me this letter.
Mom,
I know that it’s out of the ordinary for us
to get mushy with one another. We’ve
always relied on laughter to get us through the roughest of times. But for some reason, right now I feel the
need to tell you a few things that I should have said a long time ago.
First of all, I want to thank you. In the last couple of days, a lot of my
beliefs have been questioned, and I have been forced to defend them. I can
never tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you taught me to do
that. I have thought of you many times
in the past two weeks and the conviction with which you’ve lived your
life. I also want to thank you for
instilling so many of those beliefs in me.
Thank you for taking me to church, teaching me right and wrong, and bringing
me up in a home free of hatred. Having
been confronted with a lot of hate recently, in the form of art we have viewed,
I realize that not everyone was taught equality the way Misty and I were.
Now, I need to apologize. I’m sorry for all the times I should have
called and didn’t. I’m sorry for not
spending more time with you and if I have ever made you feel unwanted, I never
meant to.
I love you, Mom. If I can be half the parent you’ve been, I’ll
be happy. Anyway, I know that we’re not
into this mushy, card-writing stuff, but I though this time it was
appropriate.
Love,
Ryan
I feel that this
letter was a gift. I will frame it and
keep it where I can read when I need to.
Things weren’t always rosy between us and we had some “screamers” when
Ryan was in college. We refer to his junior year as the year Ryan majored in
“stupid decisions.” But those things passed
and we settled into a comfortable place as mother and adult son. I have a few regrets when I look back on
Ryan’s life but I can’t change those now.
The last day that I
spent with Ryan was in late June and we had dinner at Georges at the Cove in La Jolla, California. It was a beautiful night, and we had a great
time. It is a very good memory. Our last
phone, a couple of days before he died ended with loving words and I will
always treasure that.
