About Cheerio

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In general I am a cheery and energetic person. But I am enshrouded in a cloak of iron. That cloak is the weight of greiving my son, whom I've lost to adoption.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

my socks are purple

my socks are purple
Yesterday as I was driving into work- I was contemplating how adoption has affected every single area of my life.

It doesn't stay in a nice neat little box that I can store in it's 'appropriate' place anymore. It used to. I used to be able to pull that pretty little shoebox out of the storage of my mind - and occasionally think about the contents inside.

Holding a pciture of him, I would trace the outline of his face with my fingers. Then if there was any twinge of 'negative' thoughts or feelings, I could put the lid back on, and put it back on the shelf. Close the door and walk away.

It isn't like that anymore. Instead it is like doing the laundry.

There was this one little piece of clothing that was not prewashed. Let's say it was dark purple. Either I didn't realize it was not pre-washed - or I didn't notice it fell into the machine with all my white socks.

You know the routine, you go to pull the socks out, and surprise! They're not white anymore.

Well, my adoption feelings have outgrown their shoebox.

I guess the first feeling was the feeling of love.
 Growing up as a kid, we moved every year. My Mom, sister and I. So, I didn't develop close friendships, because I knew I was here only for a short time. If I did actually make a friend, when we moved away, I'd miss them. At first, I missed them a awful lot. We may even write letters, for awhile.

But that all waned as time went on. New school, new neighborhood. I'd move on, and the feeling of missing that friendship would would taper off. We might still be 'friends' and connect later in life. But that 'gee I wish you were here' feeling wasn't so strong or even there at all anymore.

That's how I thought it would be with adoption too. Heck, I wasn't a fool all on my own - that's basically how the adoption 'counselor' said it would be. Yup, their description was - It will be really hard at first. But then the pain will decrease and eventually fade away.

I figured I've dealt with that all my life, I could handle another 'loss' like that.
I wish they were right.
Instead this love for my son - whom I have not held for 13 years - this love is baffeling. How can love grow for someone I dont' see? This love and desperate longing is so intense. It has bled into every area of my life.

 I guess while going through the laundry of life, the vibrant color of his existance has seeped out of the box. Seeped into my day to day thoughts. Seeped into my perspective. Seeped into my thought process. There is not a spot in my sould that has not changed.

My socks are purple.
They used to be white.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

the empty swing

The empty swing...

Last night, as I was walking up the driveway from checking the mail, I stopped at the top of the hill.
From there I could see many of the new flowerbeds I put in since we moved here last year. To me, it looked pretty - all the orange zinnia, white mums, the pink vinca flowers, along with all the other flowers still blooming at this time of year.

It made me think of one of the counselors I went to for a few sessions, since I lost my son to adoption. She said that it was good that I was a gardener; it helped to get out the 'nurturing' side of me.

So, here I stand on the hill looking out over all these flowers. And I realized that if I had my son with me, I would not have all these flowers. I wouldn't have time. Maybe I wouldn't have the 'need'.

 As I'm gazing and pondering, my eye stops at the playhouse on our property. I have two cats, they don't use the playhouse. My nephew doesn't get to come over enough to use the playhouse. So there is sits, empty and alone (like my heart).

I have tons of flowers, but an empty swing. It was designed to bring joy to a child, and fill the air with laughter. Instead - it's empty.