Friday, April 18, 2008

'Visiting' Myles III

So tonight I bought two of those tiny little alcohol bottles, drank them and went to Myles grave. The only person I've told this is my Mom, but I've thought multiple times of just digging him up and holding him one more time. My mom is so great, she said she felt the same when her Dad died. I got him some beautiful windchimes and decided to go get so different colored floweres because these blue roses have been there since we buried him (so I don't want to change them) but . . . blue roses? What looks more fake than blue roses? There is no such thing.

I sat there this time and talked. I talked to him like he could hear me. What am I doing? I don't think he can here me, is it just an attempt to find closure in our social by verbalizing what I would say to him if I could?

It felt good. I'm not sure if it was the drinking or just the babbling like when I'm typing. Next time I should bring my laptop. I did a pg journal for Simone but my myspace blog seemed to do just that for Myles. But it wasn't in the first person, you know? It was all about me, and how excited we were, or how tired I was, or whatever blissfully pregnant women rant and rave about (good and bad).

With Simone, it was to her. It's about 20 pages. And I just told her things like I was talking to her, not an adult. I even joked one time that Myles' diary was my blog but I couldn't let him read it until he was older because I cussed too much. In Simone's I just tell her like I am talking to a child. And I suppose, when I talked to 'Myles' today, telling him all the things that excited me about him and our future together. How I knew he would be a challenge, but I thought in the stubborn toddler in a restaurant or rebellious teen challenge. NOT A CHALLENGE LIKE THIS.

I read a quote the other day that grief is the price of love. And that made me scared to love. I know we've discussed it before, but, to me (IMNSHO) love is what makes the world go round, not money. To pay such a cruel price? Could I wish my daughter weren't here, just so I never have to go through the pain of losing her? No. So it's worth it. But I've never paid this price, I love my son so much, so much. And this intense grief I feel this moment is a testament to that, but oh, what a burden. Life is beautiful and cruel.

1 comment:

c. said...

I mean, what's the harm in going to Myles' graveside and talking with/to him. I know you don't believe he is "there"...but just being there with his body and talking to him as though he was there must feel cathartic. The fact that you continue to go, regardless of your beliefs, speaks volumes. I hope you continue to feel like you can go to his grave, to talk to him and to make it look cared for, because in that act of caring for it, you are caring for him in the only way you can. I know you'd rather have him...and really, I'd rather you had him, too.