Whether basking atop a scenic plateau, or plodding the depths of a deep crevasse (both literally and figuratively), my life is an open book (well...mostly! A lady has to have a few secrets, eh?).

Why Do I Want to Keep a Blog? Excellent question! Years ago, I lost my first grandson and in an attempt to deal with my profound grief, I decided to embark on a healing journey: a long-distance hike on the Appalachian Trail. I began my first blog as a way to share my journey with friends and loved ones back home. It was then that I realized how satisfying maintaining a blog was. I really do enjoy writing!

Later, when I lost my son, followed shortly after that by my brother, I found that the blog afforded me a way to pour the overwhelming emotions I was feeling out into the universe. And I discovered that in sharing my own travails, others came forward. I realized that in being open and vulnerable, others didn't feel so alone. I understood that in a small way, I had the ability to lift the veil on mental illness, and maybe reduce the stigma just a bit.

For reasons I am unable to put into succinct words, I take joy in sharing my life. In fact, it's actually therapeutic for me, as affirmed by the doc who (tries to) help me to keep my head straight. So, I offer you a glimpse of the inner workings of my sometimes-addled mind. Perhaps I'll offer a description of some of my adventures and even misadventures. Maybe I'll take a walk down memory lane. There might be a recipe here and there. I'll even throw in a few photographs now and then, too.

Maybe I'll make you laugh, maybe I'll make you cry. Maybe I'll make you ponder, or reassure you that you're not alone in some of the insanity you might be experiencing.

In other words, I never know what will come forth when I sit down to write. Could be stream-of consciousness, could be a carefully crafted and meticulously honed entry.

Whatever comes forth, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy offering it.

Cheers! And happy trails.


Tuesday, June 19, 2018

I'll Love You Forever...

Dear Ethan,

I love you sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back a gazillion times and a gazillion times again. I love you more than all the stars in the sky, all the grains of sand on the beach. I love you in the way only a mama can love her boy.

Five years ago today, you left us. It's been a struggle to find a new normal in a world without my Ethan, but baby, I want you to know that I'm finding my way. It hasn't been easy, and I stumble regularly, but I'm learning to put one foot in front of the other and to keep on keeping on. I feel certain that you wouldn't want me to hold onto my sorrow, so I am doing everything in my power to let go of the hurt and hang onto only the love.

I remember you, baby. You're the precious little boy who used to try to suck both of your thumbs at the same time. You're the boy who could recite the lines of all your favorite movies, verbatim. You're the boy who used to play the trombone so beautifully, and who had the rare trait of perfect pitch. I remember how excited your piano teacher was to discover this, and the enthusiasm in his voice when he shared the discovery with us. That's a really rare gift.

You had many rare gifts, baby. Especially that amazing brain of yours. You were one of the smartest people I ever met, and the world lost a treasure when you went away. You could have been almost anything you wanted to be. But you couldn't be happy. And I understand, honey. Probably more than anyone else on the planet, I understand.

I remember you and your brothers and sister and I going to Home Depot and trying to whistle the Colonel Bogey March (the theme song to the movie The Bridge Over the River Kwai) in unison without breaking up into gales of laughter. That's one of my favorite memories, and whenever I hear that song I think of you. The other shoppers loved it too.

I remember singing the songs to the soundtrack of the movie, "Chicago." The one where Richard Gere sings about the gun, and the tempo grows increasingly faster...trying to see who could get the most words out without drawing a breath.

I remember walkie-talkies in the grocery store. You and Rhiannon loved it when I'd use the radio to tell you to go get flour on aisle 5, then meet me by the eggs. It made shopping an adventure, and you loved it.

I remember you putting a package of condoms in the shopping cart, thinking they were those foil-wrapped chocolate coins. I remember the shopper nearby laughing as she listened to me try to explain that no, honey, it's not chocolate. It's called a condom. "What's a condom?" "Well, it's something for grownups." "What's it for?" "Well..."

Yes, honey. I remember you. My beautiful, handsome, intelligent, troubled boy. I hope you found the peace you were looking for. I understand why you had to go away. I just wish, selfishly, that you could have stayed around.

Sometimes I want to go away, too, but I've made a resolution to stick around. I'm going to live more fully for both of us. And no matter where I go, no matter what I do, I'm going to carry you with me.

I love you, darling. Forever and always.

Love,
Mama


Memorial Tribute to Cpl. Ethan Vanderwilt
(click link)


















1 comment:

  1. This is beautiful Tami....thank u for sharing....I am certain there is nothing worse in life than losing a child to suicide������
    ❤️❤️❤️

    ReplyDelete

Fence Posts and Remote Controls...

Big changes are happening in my life my at head-spinning rate. Seems these days are filled with task after task, taking me away from where...