In Loving Memory



A watercolor i did of my Dad in 1994, and a pencil drawing
 of Ty that I completed in 2008.

I'm sad today. Yes, sad.  That's the best word to describe how I feel. 

September 19, 1997 is a day that is engraved in my memory. I can recall almost every minute of that day. 

September 19, 1997.  The day my Dad died.  He was 52 years old. I was 21.

In other posts I have touched on how I not so well coped with his death. (Actually a quick scan of my archives tells me I never published any of those, which is for the best.  They're usually not well articulated or sometimes even rational.  No one needs to try to read that.)

Anywho, It took years to get to just 'sad'.  Today, I'm not going to talk about any of that. Today, I'm going to share a poem I wrote in September 2007, the ten year anniversary of his passing.

The weather is turning colder

and the trees are mostly bare.

'Nother Yule Tide log will smolder;

'nother year you won't be there.

The holidays are nearing,

and OH how they come so fast.

It seems I've only turned around,

yet nine of them have past.

Traditions have long since faded,

for they were only done in vain.

And time has failed to offer us

any distance from the pain.

'Tho a thousand hurts have plagued me,

and there'll be hundreds more.

One ache still breaks my heart,

and will forever more.

His eyes, blue, like the clearest sky

with dreams that are just as bright.

I try to teach him everything,

and help him choose what's right.

And 'tho he'll never hold your hand,

or hear your chuckling laugh.

I pray that I can guide him

along the footsteps in your path.

Your body is long gone now,

But to me your legacy remains.

And I vow that in the end, my son will know,

More than just your name.

~Lynn M. Henderson September 2007

**Still missing you after all this time, Dad.**

I'm a Mother, I worry. It's what I do.

I know I worry too much.

I know that I obsess over things that needn't be obsessed over. 

I know this AND I admit it. It's part of my G.A.D. ..............

..................but please, Please, PLEASE don't tell me that I'm being silly!

These are real fears.  Real fears for Real things. 

It's not like I'm worried about the monsters under my bed or anything.

Wait let me back up to this morning and to the incident that has initiated this little rant.

I awoke about thirty minutes early this morning, because I wanted to spend a few extra minutes with Ty. I was supposed to drop him off at his Daddy & Lilly's on my way to work, then they would all be heading to Gatlinburg for a few days of vacation.

So I hurried up, showered, dressed and what have ya.  After pulling that off in record time, I then commenced to getting Ty up and ready.  As I was gooping up his Mohawk, I starting talking to him about how important it was that he get back home to me safely.  I stressed that he had to be extra careful while traveling.  To make sure that he doesn't run ahead of Daddy and Lilly or get distracted  by something and not keep up with them.  I reminded him that it was super important not to talk to strangers and that all bad guys don't necessarily look like Two-Face from Batman.

As I was reciting all of this to him, someone (who's first name is My and last name is Mother) walked by and told me to quit being silly. She said that I was only "projecting my anxiety".

WTF!!!

So have I only IMAGINED seeing those missing kids on milk cartons?  Are Amber alerts only an urban legend?

I don't think so!

I understand that my Mom (oops, I mean 'Someone') was only trying to keep me from scaring Ty and possibly even trying to make me feel better.  The problem is, that she has no idea what it feels like to have your baby away from you. To feel helpless and afraid of a situation that is out of your control.

Fortunately for her (and my sister and myself), she and my Dad stayed married. Therefore, there were never any separate vacations.  She never had to send her baby off without her. I'm even sure I was in like the 5th or 6th grade before I even went to the mall with out her. 

Let me specify here that I'm not concerned that his Dad or Lilly won't take good care of him.  I KNOW they will.  They love him, care for him and worry about him the same as I do. I'm not worried about lack of care here.  I'm worried that even in the best of circumstances things can go wrong. 

I'm not being silly. Just ask any parent of a missing or abducted child.

I also understand "someone's" ill attempt to ease my mind. I do understand that.  I understand that from her perspective it is "silly" to worry over what you cannot change. 

I wish I didn't worry so much. I wish I could just enjoy the next couple of days instead of spending it feeling like my guts are caught in a wringer.  I really, really do.

But it's who I am, and what I do.

As a Mother and as Me.

P.S.  ~ I know your thinking, "Wow! She just moved in over the weekend and she's already upset at her Mom."  But that's not exactly true.  I am venting, yes, but I'm not really upset with her.  I understand that she is my Mother, and that "roles" die hard.  It's hard for her to see me doing something that she herself doesn't necessarily agree with and NOT "correct" me for it.  I understand that.  I also understand that with a little admonishment, corporal punishment and correcting hard work,determination and patience this too will change.

Life through Rose Colored Glasses

Credit: Free images from acobox.com

My beautiful, wonderfully all-knowing sister is always telling me that I self-medicate with alcohol.  She simply insists that I use it as a coping mechanism. (She has her PhD in Counselors Education, which translates to her educating me about needing counseling.) But that's OK, I love her dearly.

And she's right.

I really do.  When life gets a little too mucky, or the walls feel as thought they are pressing in just a little too hard, I fix myself a drink.

Ok, ok, OK!  I fix myself LOTS of drinks.  You see, I don't just have one drink to help ease the tension or stress, I wash it fully away.  It's like a tidal wave of alcohol, just swooshing down to to drown out what ails me.

(Please keep in mind that my child is at his Dad's no less than three nights a week. That's plenty of time to "self-medicate" without drinking when my son is around. So please do not assume that I am neglecting, or endangering anyone but myself.)

Yet, recently I believe that I now know WHY I did that.  IT'S BECAUSE IT WORKED! 

So, what's the problem?

Well, for inquiring minds that want to know; I quit smoking at the first of the year. 

I just gave them up.  After 20 years of at least a pack-a-day habit, I just put them down and I really haven't missed them at all.

Unless I'm having a drink.

Yes, it's like cigarettes where just MADE to go with alcohol.  They just taste so dang good together. 

Ahhhh! I can feel the sensation.

I really wanted to quit smoking though, so I have not even been socially drinking.  That means no beer at the pig roast. No hanging out at B'dubs with my friends.  I only had a couple of drinks at RudyFest last Friday night.

I just can't fight the urge not to smoke, especially after more than a couple of drinks. 

......blah......blah.....blah.....skip ahead to this morning......

OK, so I've been taking the little Rx the doc gave me. Its been almost a week. (It took me a week to get my nerve up enough to take it.) 

I can't tell its helping at all. 

It might be. I might be an even bigger mess if I hadn't started taking it, but I don't think so. I still am fighting tooth and nail to keep from assuming the fetal position in my bed every evening.  (I'm winning approximately 2 out of 3 nights.)

Ok, OK!

You're right. Again.  The scrip calls for 2 a day and I've only been taking one.

I can't help it. I'm a big fat chicken.

I don't know what these pills will do to me. How they will make me feel. (Other than sleepy. That one, I've figured out.)

I do KNOW how a big ol' margarita will make me feel!  Just dandy!  Like I've got my shit together, and ready to take on the world!

AND I know it will make me want a cigarette.  And I don't know what the side effects of mixing alcohol with my new pills will do. (Probably make me sleepier, faster.)

I haven't even looked up the side-effects to this new med, because I was afraid my over-eager imagination would anxietize me into having some (or all).  I had my sis research it, and told her to keep an eye and ear open for anything that I might do or say.  Then she could tell me if I need to seek medical assistance. :)

Yes, I know I am a mess. My nerves are shot and I just can't deal. 

With anything.

I know this and I keep telling anyone who will listen to me.  But mostly no one believes me.  People seem to think that if you can see what a mess you are, then you SHOULD be able to straighten up.  I think that mind set comes from, well from ignorance for one, but from those 12-step programs where admitting you have a problem is the first step.

Well, it might be the FIRST step, but it ain't the only one. 

I guess, I should try taking the meds as prescribed. Not doing so only makes ME look ignorant.

(**sigh**)




Although, I REALLY would like to have a Big, Salty, Tangy, Tequila loaded Margarita!

(**bigger sigh**)


Credit: Free images from acobox.com