Just like old times

I have been quiet.  It certainly has not been because of lack of things to say, but those things are too heavy on my heart to share.

My boy has found solace and comfort in the arms of his father and my time with him is few and far between.  This emotional and physical gap has proved to be more than a little difficult.  When we are together is feels like a strained relationship on its last days, with little to say and a lot of silence.

I know that this is not permanent - please don't tell me that.  I know that things will change - please don't tell me that.  I know that he feels safe to reject me - please don't tell me that.

However, the stages of loss and independence with your only child are natural and painful at the same time.  As I have shared, I have had my fill of loss, but to feel loss while the person is still in your life is another thing entirely.

Hormones, emotions, and a changing psychic landscape are all aspects of this time for us.  To quote Nietzsche (and for those younger, Kayne West) "what does not kill me, makes me stronger" is my mantra.  However, the implied strength is hard to see.

While I am missing and longing for the child who is missing 24/7, last night a gift arrived.  He was with me, we fell asleep holding hands, and the broken heart I have healed every so slightly.

 Bill Viola, Four Hands (2001)