I want to be clear: I do not
for a moment think that my experience as a mother losing her 27-year-old son to
leukemia is the worst thing that can happen. It’s hard, it’s painful, it’s sad,
but there is tremendous suffering in this fallen world of ours. I write my
experience, not out of self-pity, I hope, but in the spirit of sharing among
friends.
Today, October 4, 2015, is David’s
birthday. I didn’t remember that when I woke up this morning; as soon as I did
I had a good cry.
Since it’s the first Sunday in
October, it’s General
Conference in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints . October 4,
1992 was also a Sunday: David’s fifth birthday. I made a layer cake with
Halloween orange frosting and black icing spider webs. Between sessions of
General Conference we ate a picnic on the front lawn of the Weston meetinghouse
and tried to light the candles; it’s tricky to keep tiny birthday candles lit
outdoors.
This past week we spent five days at
the Peabody Institute in Baltimore, a music school like Julliard, Curtis, and
Berklee. We heard lectures on the Jewish migration of the 1890s and its impact on
Tin Pan Alley, the American entertainment industry, and on jazz. We attended
concerts, had private student recitals, and visited the Jewish Museum of
Maryland and the Walter’s Art Gallery. After David’s death, I had scoured the Road Scholar catalog for a needed change
of pace and place for us.
We returned home Friday night; Saturday
evening I shopped at Market Basket. I hadn’t realized what a relief it was to
be away from familiar surroundings. There I was in the dairy aisle, shopping
for just two and nearly in tears. Driving home down North Adams St, I was
painfully aware that David wasn’t waiting at home, hadn’t been waiting at home
for 52 days.
Tonight as I put the washed dishes
in the drainer I sprayed the kitchen counter with a bleach solution, just for
old times’ sake. It’s still novel to wash the dishes and not soak them in
bleach for ten minutes.
Posts
Not as sad for me but sad nonetheless.
ReplyDelete