My son Alex left our little city of Sacramento, California a year ago yesterday, well technically I live in Carmichael but does that even matter. What I know is that in the year my son has gone he’s become gainfully employed with a career he loves, bought a new car, and moved out on his own. He’s become a man. Life goes on- just keep going.
Saturday Morning with Coffee and Chickens
I’ve been staring out in the yard as I watch the sprinkles start to slowly come down, the chickens are huddling under the coop from the weather. No matter what, life is good.
There has been a lot of the “what” going on lately and yes I will write about just a bit. I write for me, not for you by the way, I love it. I digress. I’ve been able to show up and be present to bury an ex husband recently, spend a lot of time holding his hand and watching TV before he passed, see a family I haven’t seen for 23 years, make an amends, and be there for our two children and their choices not to see him throughout it all. You know, that whole life on life’s terms thing. All this has been really odd by the way, it was as if after I appeared he didn’t want to die, even removing himself from the DNR. David lasted just over another month, he was only 49, his heart failed five years earlier, his pacemaker was no longer working now, kidneys and lungs failing too, he shut down. He was one of us.
I’ve been pretty lucky where my children are concerned. I have been able to be reunited with most and have them in my lives; even been able to raise a few still. I am a prime example of what not to do for them. They have witnessed and learned from my choices what they don’t want out of life or at least I thought they had, there had to be one.
My son Alex, seems to be forging his own way, still partying at 23. You know, it’s legal now. We’ve had the conversations, no you can’t plant “tomatoes” in the back 40, no you can’t have a party here, I don’t care how old you are, and so on. This is my house, I still have young girls here, what they see, and what I do matters. I don’t want them to think it’s normal to work, party, eat, play video games, and repeat. It’s not. That is not the life I want for them so that is not the life I will show them. How you speak to me, how you treat me, what I accept, what I tolerate, look the other way at and invite into my life and my house will shape my children forever. I know this to be true from my own childhood.
Alex just never seemed to get it and still hasn’t. I can only hope he does soon. Maybe I am a hard ass? I can’t co your shit, I refuse, not even my children’s. It took my own mother a long time to learn that one, I was a terror. Who really knows how to be a parent right? We learn as we go, or at least I am. I have taken pieces from my mother, people in the rooms and a memory of what I don’t want myself for my children. That is all I have, along with faith, hope, honesty, open mindedness, willingness, trust, gratitude, humility, and LOVE, just to name a few.
This is uncharted territory, my son has left, not just my home but the state. I asked him to go, gave him options, of course none of which he took. He is forging his own path, I can only pray that it is a good one. Not the path that I walked for so long, the path that his father chose and who I just buried. As for me, I will continue to show up, do what I do, and stay grateful.
The Chicken Lady