Things

Sigh.

Things are on my mind.

Why do I harp? Why am I so on the Oldest? I can hear myself and I hate myself as I'm correcting or pointing out but the words keep coming. Want him to be right, know right, act right, do right always right. Let him be I hear a voice in my head. I really hear it. But then MY real voice comes out and what can I do? Shut up? Probably. Leave him alone. Let him be. He is fine, more than fine, he excels at school, loves it all, and seems happy. Who could ask for more? No one. I tell him all the time I'm proud of him, we're proud of him, good job, keep it up, way to go.....and I'm not lying. But when I see him step off the track just a step I'm all up in his grill. Why? I hate it.

Tonight I was thinking how protective we are. Really protective. Of both of them. Down to everything. Every.Thing. This cannot be good. It cannot help build self esteem. Right? Right. I know this. But the alternative.......

If Lucas had not died, I would not be who I am today, the worrier, the can't stop being afraid person, the what if person, the person who's eyes are darting around always and brain never stops rolling with the OMG scenarios in my head. It's like I'm two different people. I KNOW what is sane and normal (by all accounts) and I hear it in my head but I can't stop because if it happened again in any way then I'd be a pile of dust in two seconds fallen before your eyes. So there you have it. There is no letting go. The Oldest is 9. I think he'll grow up and be a caring, in touch with his emotions, smart, successful guy. Who is afraid. Like me. I am making them this way. I just don't know in some moments of my day why he DID die. Still. I guess the hard ugly truth is that still, right now, fleshing this all out, I don't know. And to the core of me, it all, almost everything, goes back to the loss of Lucas.

It's so quiet in this house right now. Just me and you. Just me and the sound of the keys going a mile a minute but all else silent. And do you think anyone can see my tears? But for my description to you know one knows I AM crying yet I try still to hold it back. It's sick really. In my effort to remain a healthy normal feeling person the result is the opposite.

Tonight, as I sat in the Littlest' room at bedtime (I usually sit in the rocker for a few minutes then do the whole kiss goodnight ritual after books, bath, brush teeth blah blah blah) and my husband brought in a small dixie paper cup of water to him, the way he carried it was as if it was an egg. He wasn't kidding. I watched in realization that he was afraid the water would spill; either on the Littlest or on the carpet, I'm not sure which. It dawned on me that we four live in a bubble of fear even down to the tiniest things; like that cup of water. I bet most of the time we aren't even aware of it. What others must think...and I was off in a tangent of roller coaster thoughts which brought me hear at almost midnight.

Oh I'm strong. Built of pure steel. Anyone can look and see that. I love to laugh it up and often sarcasm eeks from my pores. Under the layer of steel and strength is a mess of a woman who knows nothing. And that is the truth. I.Know.Nothing. Except that Lucas would be six in two weeks. Yes, I do know that. And I guess I know one more thing. That I need to lighten up on the boys or I'm going to royally screw them up for life. Ok. New mission. Mission Lighten Up.

10-4.