Yesterday, I began to have a "moment" around 3:30, and it's lasted for well over 24 hours now.
I almost knew it was coming, but was wondering what would trigger it. The trigger was the senior pep rally at school. I always enjoy seeing the seniors begin their months of nostalgia around this time of year. They start to realize this is the last pep rally, the last football game, the last . . . and so it goes. What hit me this time though is the moms. The moms of the seniors in the band, football, volleyball, dance team, cheerleaders, etc. performed and had large pictures of their kids with a baby picture on one side and the senior picture on the other. At the end of the pep rally, there was a lot of kid and mom hugging, picture taking, and thank yous from kids to parents. Sometimes this sort of thing just gets to me, and I think about what I've missed.
Why does this strike me? I really don't know for sure because I can't say that I would have ever been one of those moms, even if things had been more traditional with Ethan, but who knows. I already know that I won't be one of those moms with Asa, but at least I'll get to go through all the steps with him. He's not involved in anything at school which would garner such public display, but we will have our own markers. I think it's the missing of the opportunity for the steps that gets to me. All the missed opportunities.
I'm not fully satisfied with that answer though. Right now, Asa is just fine and I have very little worries about him, except for passing math. Right now, Ethan has been clean for almost 90 days, and he is in such better shape than he has been in the last 6 years. I'm amazingly grateful for that! It's still tough for him though, not just the daily fight against addiction, but the daily living of an adult. I never had the chance to teach him HOW to be a grown up. There is so much he doesn't know, and now I can't teach him all the details very well. I've sent him out into the world with very few practical skills. I realize that it's not my fault, but fault doesn't matter. It's irrelevant. My child is an adult, but a child, and I can't teach him what he needs to know now. The world of reality is difficult enough for him, I just wish I could help. Anyone reading this is probably thinking, "Get over it! It's not your fault or your problem." However, it hurts and it is my problem. I wanted that time, and no matter how old he is, he's in need of the parenting he wasn't here to get. I feel I've let him down, even though I know I haven't. That's the melancholy speaking.
Recently, Asa has become interested in records, and was thrilled to learn that I still have boxes of records and a record player. All week, we've planned to dig out all the stuff and I was going to introduce him to the awesomeness of listening to records on the record player. We cleared out the closet and got the player out, put one of the records one, heard that wonderful popping sound just before the music, and then the music started. Just one problem, it played too slow. Guess it needs a new belt under the turntable. Asa was so disappointed, and I felt like I had let him down, even though I know I haven't. Just one of those things. That's the melancholy speaking.
Halloween, turned the lights off and sat on the couch watching TV. Asa was out with a friend, and I was glad for that. He has always loved Halloween, and he really wanted to sport his new Leather-face costume. I miss Halloween when the boys were little. They both looked forward to it all year, and we had fun with the costumes and trick-or-treating. The fall season of their youth, in Ohio, was always so picturesque. I'm glad they have those memories. I'm glad I have those memories too, but I do miss the joy and innocence.
With Halloween, comes the rest of the holidays in rapid succession. That used to bring on happy times, but now I get anxious. I don't like feeling like that. I need my old excitement for Asa and for myself. Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, always my favorite holidays. I want to enjoy them like I used to, but over the last few years, they've brought more and more anxiety. Asa will be gone for Thanksgiving, so I won't be doing anything, for the first time ever. That will be weird. The last years of Christmas with Ethan has been very spotty, and I've mainly only been able to see him for several hours on that day. This year, I won't see him at all. I'm willing to tolerate that trade-off for his sobriety, but I'll miss him. I'm trying very hard to get some excitement for the holidays, but in reality, I want to shed a tear or two when thinking about them. That's the melancholy speaking too.
I don't like it when I feel this way, but I think we all have expectations of how we think our lives will move forward, and what the future will hold for our children. Rarely do those expectations come to be as we imagine them. My boys and I have been through some very difficult times, and while I've done the best I have known how to do, I sometimes feel as if I've done all of it wrong and that I've let my kids down. The little things add up, and I thought I'd do a better job with all of this. I have these moments of melancholy which usually last for a few days and then lift, and during them, I feel like quite the failure.
I'm sure it will pass, as it usually does . . .
