It's Not Easy Being Green

My son and I have had some pretty serious talks tonight. Damn, it's tough to be a kid. I think I delude myself into thinking that, because he has it so much better in so many ways than I did, that he has it easy. But, growing up in 2005 can't be easy. And apparently it isn't. It hurts not to be able to make it all better, and it's hard to be satisfied with just giving them the tools, the support, and the love they need while you stand back and watch them do the hard work of growing up.

Maybe it would've been easier to take if, just today, I hadn't gotten a glimpse in my rear view mirror of a car much like my dad's being driven by a man in a baseball hat like dad always wore, with a small woman sitting in the passenger seat beside him. It was so familiar, and for that fraction of a second I thought, "Is that them?" and felt surprised and happy followed quickly by the realization that, of course not, how could it be, they're both gone now. When that reality hits, no matter how often it's happened before it comes with a fresh jolt of, I don't know, finality.

I realize this is the one year anniversary of the week my mother died, and know enough from past experience to understand that even if I don't consciously recall it, my subconscious has noted this. I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm feeling very weepy. Today a coworker about my age introduced me to her mother who was having lunch with her and I almost couldn't speak for a few seconds. It felt like I'd been punched. I almost skipped going to the gym in favor of laying face down on the bed crying, but talked myself out of it. That may have been a mistake.