An Amended Goodbye And A Hope-For Altered Life

Was Thanksgiving really only four days ago? If so, why do I feel like I’ve traveled through a lifetime since, one filled with such enlightenment that I cannot even relate to the person that laid down her head onto a tear-stained pillow 72 hours ago.

I can’t say that I am born again. That is a term that belongs in other discussions, perhaps, about belief systems,  the meaning of life, about whether or not there is a God. I don’t pretend to have awakened to a new dawn. I can guarantee that I am no closer to any answers to the mysteries of the universe than I’ve ever been, or likely ever will be.

All I know is that I’ve run smack into some things quite unexpected: a cascade of new feelings and thoughts, a flood driven by a lot of self-assessing, looks in the mirror and, as my grandmother might have said, some knocks upside the head.

What do I see when I look inside that I did not see four long days ago?

I see a person who has embraced this: I control nothing other than me. As much as I might try, I cannot change one single thing beyond my reach, even if my heart screams at me to try. I have to answer for me, and let all else flow on courses predetermined by far powers far greater than me.

If I had all the money in the world, would I wish to spend it to assure my son be safe, secure, healthy and happy? In a millisecond I would. But I can’t. Not if all the gold on Earth were dropped in my lap, right here, right now, could i strike that bargain. That ability cannot be purchased, because it is a power that cannot be passed from the person who has always possessed it: Josh.

Only Josh can live Josh’s life. If if I protract, then don’t I have to admit that, if that is true, then it naturally follows that only I can live my life.

How presumptuous of me to think that I can guide that young man, that I can remain in the center of his life story without sucking out the oxygen he so needs. How selfish to assume that the decisions me makes are to spite or hurt me, to impact my life? How selfish was I to be consumed by anger four days ago, as if he wasn’t angry enough, wounded enough, for both of us?

On Thursday, I had told him he was “ruining” Thanksgiving, something I said out of anger, anguish and pain. Now I realize that while I may have felt all of that, I can never know the depths to which he been consumed by all that and more.

That became crystal clear after I received two texts this morning, both from Josh, both apologing for “ruining” Thanksgiving, both asking for forgiveness.

I thought long and hard before responding, telling him, in part, the following:

“I have received your apologies, but cannot accept them -- but not for reasons you may think.

From where you stand, you owe me no apologies. If I buy into the conceit that you do, then I would have no choice but to accept or reject. And to  either would be wrong because it would continue to permit me to buy into my long-miscast role as victim. I am not a victim. How can I be if I am the only one empowered to guide my own life? I am responsible for my life, no more, no less, just as you are responsible for yours. I hope you are seeing to your life, seeking guidance and help from those best trained to offer it. That is all I can do at this point: wish for you the strength to take care of you."

Then I apologized, for assuming I had the power to change him, putting what must have been an overwhelming weight on him. How can he fight his illness, and my expectations at the same time? It’s time he stops doing both. My last gift to him may well be giving him permission to stop trying to please me. He must only fight to please himself, and perhaps he can fight that fight more freely if we step apart for now.

As for Thanksgiving, a great and good friend told me today that the wonderful thing about the one that just passed this week means we flip the calendar; another will follow in 12 short months because, well, it always does. Tell Josh that maybe you can do the next one better.

Maybe we can, indeed. It’s something to look forward to. In the meantime, it’s still goodbye. But just for now, I pray.