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Wednesday, Jun. 09, 2004--12:09 a.m. So it's the day after. The day when the rest of the world finds out about a tragedy, the school counselors are on full alert, patrolling hallways with kleenex and comfort; parents gather around the coffee pot at work, speaking in hushed tones, terrified by the reminder and committed to hugging their own kids as soon as they see them. It's a small community and no one escapes completely untouched. Those on the outer edges send silent prayers of thanks to the deities that spared their family; those in the center of the pain gather together to make the arrangements no parent should ever have to make. And those of us in that strange space in between take stock and try to do what needs to be done for those who don't even know they need it yet. Just over a week ago, upon our return from the family party in Michigan, I had a conversation with a friend about the challenges of mothering a 19 year old son. I mentioned that I had noticed (and so had he!) the strange dichotomy I felt with him; one minute he was part of the kids group, the next a member of the adults. I had an epiphany moment during that trip: I had to learn how to transition from being MOM to being Mom. It seemed to me that about 70% of the time, he was acting like a young adult and about 30% of the time he was still in obnoxious adolescent boy mode. The problem was that I tended to treat him as though the proportions were reversed. I don't think that will be an issue any more. Whatever vestiges of childhood were left in my son died along with his best friend yesterday. The thought saddens me; we all hope for our children to retain as much of their innocence as long as possible though they spend most of their teen years trying to lose it as quickly as they can. My son, tempered by an experience no parent could protect him from, shed the last of his childhood like an ill fitting, old skin. In the midst of my sorrow over this, I am heartened by the man he has shown himself to be. When I asked him at 12:30 am if he was making the hour plus drive home now that the outcome was certain, his reply was "I don't know yet, I have to see what Marty's parents need first." Later I mentioned that I was concerned about him, that it must have been such a horrible thing to see happen to his friend. He replied "I've thought about that Mom, and I'm glad it was me there. I'm glad that it was one of Marty's best friends with him when it happened, not someone he barely knew and I am glad that I got to be the last one to see him when he was still Marty." Today I delivered food to a grieving family. It felt awkward and hesitant to me -I am after all, the mother of the child who survived. Instead of even mentioning her own grief, the words that came from this woman extolled the virtues of my son and her family's concern for his well being. I mentioned her comments to him in a conversation late this afternoon and in our final phone call tonight, I ask if he'd called the family's house yet. "No," comes the response from this newly minted adult, "I think today should be just for the family. I'll call tomorrow and take up the collage that we made for them today." I'm blessed to have my son. I'm proud of the young man he has become. I'm still going to grieve for that last bit of his childhood though. Older Entries |