Yesterday, as I watered my flowers, I looked at my pecan tree and thought about wrapping my arms around it, squeezing it tightly, and giving it a huge bear hug. Knowing that might look strange to my neighbors, I did not give in to that urge.
My son and I spend a lot of time riding in the car. Both of us, introverts to the core, can literally ride an entire 70 mile trip to work without saying two words to each other. I’ve been having some mom-guilt feelings about this because, ideally, I could be using this time to get to know him
After my husband died, one of my best friends gave me a pair of Wonder Woman pajama pants. They were meant to be symbolic: it was time to put on my Wonder Woman pants and get the job done.
Shortly after my husband passed away, I could tell that our son was using distraction to cope with his grief. If he saw me crying or felt sadness at a memory of his dad, he immediately would turn his attention to his video game and focus completely on what was happening. He didn’t want to talk about his dad, or ask questions.
“Hi’dy, Hi’dy!” she’d call out as she came through the front door. We kids knew what that signal meant: Grandma was visiting! And we all came running to see what goodies she brought: Kudos, candy bars, Cheetos, or better yet, homemade cakes and cookies.