Things I mourn . . .

As we move through life, our dreams, expectations, and hopes are constantly changing. Some are lost completely, some are fulfilled beyond our wildest dreams, and some are adjusted as we go --- sometimes over and over again. The anxiety I've dealt with over the last year regarding my son, Ethan, is heavy on my mind now, and it makes me realize what I have forever lost with him.

It's possible, of course, that he will survive the turmoil of his life, but regardless, it will never be the same. That happy, smiling, bright hearted, child is now scarred. All of those qualities may return some day, but the scars will now always be there. My dreams of his high school days are shattered. I don't care about the grades or anything like that. What's to be mourned here is the fun, joy, silliness, and typicality of being a high school student. Yes, it's hell for a lot of people, but because Ethan was the way he was, I always thought he would just revel in the little parts of it all. I saw him as an active kid who stayed involved, I thought about the girlfriends he would have, the homecomings he would celebrate, his prom, getting his driver's license, picking colleges, and graduating. At this point, I just want Ethan to survive himself. If he manages to get a GED, I'd be thrilled. If he is able to go on with his life in a productive, happy, or even contented manner, I'll be beyond thrilled. Survival, not graduation announcements are the goal here.

I mourn the loss of a marriage, even though I'm grateful to no longer be in it. When a marriage ends, even if it is a good thing to end, you think of all those things you'll never have with that person you hoped to spend your life with. Gone is the growing old together. Gone is the two parent, unified front. Gone is being the stability for your children. Gone are all those future scenes you've created in your head: the ones where the two of you are at the wedding of your child, the ones where you two are at the birth of your grandchild, the "Grandparents", etc. It's not that I won't still have the opportunities to experience these things, it's just that the images are now adjusted. Instead of growing old together, it's possible I may just grow old alone. Instead of being a two parent unified front, it's just me, and that's all there is. Instead of giving your kids the ability to say, "My parents have set a beautiful example of stability in life" they will get to say, "My mom has always been there for me." I know that I'll be there for all the big occasions of my kids lives, but I may very well be there alone. I may also have someone else with me, but if I don't, I won't let it hold me back. Adjustment, figure it out as you go.

I mourn the loss of time with people I miss. I miss my grandparents, especially my grandmother. I don't think I'll ever fully "adjust" to that loss. I miss the time I should have insisted on with my step-father. I shouldn't have allowed myself to be manipulated into not spending time with him and having my kids know him better. We can't get this time back, and the "should-haves" will drive you crazy. Just mourn it.

I even mourn the financial losses. Not that I want to be swimming in money, but I will most likely never be able to retire as I would have liked, nor will I be able to leave "something" behind for my kids, as my ancestors tried to do for me. About 10 years ago, the whole family was on a good financial ride, thanks to Walter my step-father. We all benefited, we all enjoyed it, we all thought it would last. But it didn't. Walter's illness, bad investments, bad stock market, etc. took it all away. Oh well.

I don't mourn all of these things in a mood of doom and gloom. I'm just making note of it. I'm airing it. I'm putting it out there so perhaps I can let it go. I blame myself for lots of things in my life and the lives of my kids, but it does little good. I'm continually trying to stay on the positive path. I'm constantly reciting Walter's favorite saying, "Leigh, it is what it is. Now, what are you going to do with it?"

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to pray and hope for the best for Ethan, and be joyous in the small accomplishments of survival he gives me. I'm going to hope and pray that Asa continues to grow in the healthy, relatively happy, wonderful path he's on. I'm going to adjust all the dreams I once had about my marriage, be glad that I'm no longer in the pain and hurt of it, and I'm going to be open to anything and everything that may come my way along those lines. I'm going to remember all the happy memories with the people who are no longer here. The money? Who cares! It'll all work out in the end.

I mourn, but I also can't wait to see how my life will turn out. I have no idea what will come, good or bad. I will continue to adjust, acclimate, assimilate, etc. After all, it is what it is; now, what am I going to do with it?