Absence Makes the Heart Hurt

My youngest son flew home in August, 2015 to stay with me awhile. At that time, my health was in bad shape, and I think everyone expected me to die.

We enjoyed Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and winter days and weather. It was wonderful having him here, and he seemed to enjoy being here. He was born late in life for me, and he’s always been entertaining and knows how to make me laugh.

Now he’s gone. He loves Asia and he’s gone back. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be there, but one time that he went, he was gone for two and a half years. I always assume the worse, and I guess he’ll be gone a long time again.

I told him I was still sick. He said I was much healthier than when he came home in August 2015.

I can understand why a twenty-something would not want to be trapped in a small town with a boring mother.

I was very grateful to have him here last March when I spent six days in the hospital. I have pets and he stayed here and took care of them. He came to see me a couple times. The first few days he was very worried, and I imagined him hiding under his bed in fear of what might happen to me. Finally the third or fourth day, he came in with his oldest brother. He brought me a singing flower. It played “You Are My Sunshine”. I loved it!

I wondered what might happen myself in that hospital, because a man, who resembled an undertaker, kept coming in wanting me to sign a Do Not Resusitate Order. I finally tore it up, and he didn’t come back. My oldest son came to see me every day. I told that undertaker looking guy that if they needed to know what to do, whether to resusitate or not, to ask my oldest son.

I asked my youngest and his oldest brother to bring me some underwear and nightgowns. Neither of them wanted to do that. Finally the youngest one showed up with a plastic bag full of clothes. He proudly announced that he had put a glove on his hand, closed his eyes and reached into my underwear drawer and taken out a handful and stuffed them in the bag. He did the same thing with my pajama/nightgown drawer. I ended up with pajama tops and bikini underwear . . . He said at least he tried! His brother wouldn’t even try! I asked the nurse couldn’t I please go home yet????

Less than a week after I got out of the hospital, a pitbull came into my yard and attacked me and my 15 year old dog. My youngest son finally realized I was screaming – he had on headphones and was on his computer- but my youngest dog hit the window that my son had up a little and she shoved it to the top as far as it would go. Then she tried to jump through the screen. My son closed the window and ran outside to help. In the process he got bitten by the pit bull and broke a bone in his foot.

We went to a library book sale shortly before he left. I had an old car that my middle son had lent me. We didn’t go far from home in it.

The same day my youngest son left, I bought a nice used car that I do plan to travel in. I wish he were still here.

I tried to talk to him a  couple hours ago. He said it was the middle of the night over there. Well, whose fault is that?

My youngest dog also was sad when he left. She’s perked up a lot in the last few days. I’m going to add the picture of how she looked the first 24 hours he was gone. I still feel the way she looks, but all I can do is write about him. I really, really miss him.

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