He came into the classroom I was assigned to, first thing this morning, just like he always does every other week he’s with his Dad. He tracks me down upon his arrival at school. This morning, he set his book bag down, took off his coat and tossed it near that pile he’d already started. I tell him I love him and he hugs me.
We sit down right there on the floor, in the middle of everything, rocking back and forth. He says he misses me and I tell him the same, as we rock back and forth a little more. His arms never felt more secure around my neck before and holding him is my favorite thing – it has been since he was born.
As we sit there, he tells me that every night he’s not with me, he still waits for me to put my arm around him as he goes to sleep. I choke back the tears and hold him tighter.
I have endured my fair share of hurting over that last decade. It’s been more than two years since I left that house. I’m positive that nothing has affected me quite like this and I can only imagine it must be what dying feels like. The pain that made me leave has become his to endure and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Life is not fair. I understand this more every day. Every day I wonder how much longer it’ll all go on until there’s no good parts of me left. Every day I wonder if I miscounted my steps, if there’s even less of me than what I thought I was left with after walking away from it all.
I give and trust and yet I keep waiting. I don’t even know what anything means anymore. We aren’t built to live without many things, we aren’t built to thrive on empty promises. My son and I aren’t built to be forced to spend time apart. We aren’t built to live without love.
Empty is by far the most painful thing to feel. I keep losing more of myself but giving is all I know. I doubt myself more as I go on because happy shouldn’t hurt. Yet everything I’ve ever loved has hurt. It hurts me to the point of tears. This morning, I had to walk away from my son. I feel guilty for times like that and I hate every single one that I have. I went to the first room I found and cried. The women there saw me and calmly shut the door behind me. They asked no questions and said for me to take a minute. I said I just can’t cry in front of him. I took the minute that I lost control, gathered myself and then returned.
We can’t appreciate a damn thing without the fear of losing it. Love seems to come with a price. Love shouldn’t hurt.
I can only sit and wait, though it seems to be the one thing that I’ve mastered – how to hurry up and sit and wait. I run on the borrowed time that others offer me. I know there are things not mine to receive. But I’m tired of waiting for everything.
The only thing I have left to hope for is that my son can just stop suffering at the hands of other people. I’ll take all that’s bad just so that he can have all that’s good.