Friday is my favorite day of the week and what I spiritedly call, “my free day.” It’s to be my day off to do what I haven’t had time to get done during the week. If anyone wants to meet with me or I need to schedule an appointment, I always try and make it on this day because I know I’ll be “free.” This particular Friday, I was free to have lunch with my lifelong friend Robin but it turned out to be a more enjoyable lunch than usual because I beat her at Rummy… twice. After lunch, I lingered at our usual place not wanting to leave for my next scheduled appointment.
When I could wait no longer, I finally left, setting my course for Broad Ripple; the place within Indy where old and new meet, commercial and creative, and suitably vibrant. In the buzz of the quaint coffee shop, I met a local author working on her next book; her writing journey of the last two years. Her subject: living beyond what is bearable. As for me, that is living with the loss of my teen son Sam not even two years ago, and which the petite, soft-spoken yet highly inquisitive author said I qualified. I had no energy to wrestle with what her words meant in my mind.
She said it would take ninety-minutes and it did. The tears fell like they do all the time but then I am most usually alone whereas today I was not. My thoughts raged at 90 miles per hour about what I would otherwise instantly push away from my thought into the furthest, most darkest crevice, of my mind. This Friday those thoughts were let out of the darkness though, in order to share, yes, what is beyond bearable.
In recent months, I’ve been plagued with thoughts that I most instantly push away about the conversation that took place when plain-clothed law enforcement stepped into our foyer and I first devastatingly came to know that Sam was gone. Just like that, he was gone; there was nothing to do. I replay the details in full for the author today but any other time, I right away try and stop the thought while I’m already feeling like I can’t breathe as I’m choking instead, and my chest is heavy with pressure like weight is on top of me that I can’t get off. I also hear inside myself the terrifying sounds that I cannot let out when I open my mouth. I could not let them out in our foyer that unbearable morning either. Instead, I went towards Nick coming down the stairs and I pushed my thoughts to the side and reached my arms around him, holding him and saying, “I got you, Nick. I’m here. Mom is here, Nick. I got you.” Over and over like waves washing up to the shore and then back out to sea again. Each time, with each wave, into the shore and receding again, taking away my… unheard screams, the pressure on my chest, the choking feeling. All receding away from me like the tidal wave that hits and then goes back to where it once came… the furthest most darkest crevice of my mind. #muchlovetosam