Suicide Awareness

He Was My Future

“When the past dies, we mourn for the dead; when the future dies, we mourn for ourselves.”

~ Gloria Steinem

Is this what I am doing? I suppose. Probably because he was MY future. OUR future.

Joe and I went to the gym Saturday morning and were headed straight to the softball field to watch the Dirt City Divas play their tournament after. Ever since Zane was in the 5th grade (give or take) I have carried deodorant in the car so I asked Joe for the deodorant. Then I giggled and quoted Zane on our many trips to school…”Hey Mom, can you hand me the deodorant?”…me…”I guess you forgot to put it on at home huh.”… Zane…”Ha, yeah.”…me…”Don’t you have some in your school bag?”… Zane…”Yeah but I’m too lazy to grab it.”(it was at his FEET)………That kid stunk too. We kept an extra stick of deodorant in the truck too and when he got the Challenger, he put one in there as well.

Saturday evening we celebrated Daniel’s 21st birthday. Another bittersweet momentous occasion I had to push through. I tried. For the sake of Daniel I tried. Zane should have been there. Family gatherings are SO hard. I look around and everyone is happy. I’m glad they are, because I would be devastated if they felt like I do.

I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that Joe told me he was mad at me, resented me, for making him move out of the old house. I woke up feeling terrible about the dream. Joe had already left for a class in Odessa so I texted him as soon as I got up. He reassured me that he would never be upset but you know how a mind gets a rolling. Even after 265 days I can never imagine sleeping in that house again. Much less even walking in the living room.

Do not get me wrong, I DO miss the old house in several ways. The size, the back porch, not bothering the neighbors, NO carpet 🤣. I miss the piano. We do not have the room in the rent house and I’m torn on whether or not to keep it. I want to have it for the good memories but…I feel like the piano saw the whole thing, felt it. Yes I know, it’s an inanimate object, it can’t “see” or “feel”. I’ve mentioned before that Zane tortured me by sneaking into the living room and playing ‘7 Years’ by Lukas Graham on that piano. I teased that the song was whiney. Well the boys put the song on Zane’s playlist for the service and I’ve fallen in love with it. Rightfully so.

“Once I was

twenty years old, my story got told
Before the morning sun, when life was lonely
Once I was twenty years old

I only see

my goals, I don’t believe in failure
‘Cause I know the smallest voices, they can make it major
I got my boys with me at least those in favor
And if we don’t meet before I leave, I hope I’ll see you later

…”

Zane didn’t make it to twenty but he had his boys with him till the very end. And that makes my heart happy.

I wonder if Zane and I look at the moon the same way. I wonder if we have the same stare, like I look at the stars.

100 more days and my sweet child will have been gone a year. For 265 days I have longed to have him back but I know that’s not possible. I still fight with my faith. I still fight with my own heart. Suicide changes a person. But my love for my baby boy is the same as October 6, 2000 @ 5:05am, the moment I laid my eyes on him.

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