Two Months

  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.