Thursday, May 10, 2007

Beautiful Boys

Yesterday I went and looked at the clothes again. I took out the "Little Hero" outfit and held it for awhile. Even the fact that it said "6 Months" on the tag broke my heart . . .he should have been wearing it when he was that age. I felt like such a source of pain and disappointment to my mother, who bought all of those things . . .even though I know she doesn't feel that way, it still made me feel that way. I wish I could have made my mom and dad's dreams come true for their grandson, I wish I could have made Jim's parents' dreams come true, I wish I could have made our brothers' and sisters' dreams come true . . .mostly I wish I could have made Jim's come true for his second son. He cried the other night and while he was holding me tight, he said, "I wanted you to have our boys so badly, I just wish they could have stayed." I feel like my body has betrayed me and I've failed everyone, including myself. I keep getting angry at the wrong people, mostly Jim, because he's the only person I can be honest about my emotions with. I paste on a fake smile most of the time, because that's what the world seems to expect, and I go about my business . . .but with him, that anger seems to burst forth at the tiniest thing. I love him so much. He is my hero, along with Brian and Sawyer, and I promised him tonight that I would try really hard to find a more positive way to deal with my anger . . .even if it's with him, I won't take it out on him, I will just tell him about it.

We sat and listened to music and watched our Sawyer videos and looked at his pictures and cried for awhile. Then I got the idea to take Jim up to the parking garage, so at about 11:15 pm, we went. When we got there, I said I wanted to turn off the CD that was on and try the radio to see if there was any significant song playing. I know, it sounds silly, but last time I went, I felt like there was a connection with the boys happening, and the song on the radio made that feeling stronger. So we switched off the CD and I flipped through the 5 radio stations that are programmed in the car. There were commercials on the first 4, and then . . .lo and behold . . .the fifth station was playing "Imagine" by John Lennon. For those of you who don't know us as well, he is our favorite singer, and that is our all-time favorite song. We played it for Sawyer all the time when I was carrying him. It was really unbelievable to us that it just happened to be playing as we drove up the ramps to the top level.

At the top, we just sat and talked to the boys for about 1/2 hour. We cried with them, and told them how proud we were of them, and how we never, ever gave up on them, and we never will. We promised we would never forget them, and asked them to let us know they were okay . . .just every once in awhile, remind us that they're safe and loved and happy. We told them to watch over us while we were apart from them, and told them how close we would always be to them, no matter what distance separated us. We reminded them to take care of each other, and mostly just told them over and over how proud we are that they are our sons. We love them no matter who they are or where they are.

This song is for my three beautiful boys . . .Jim, Brian, and Sawyer. I love them with all my heart, and they are my whole world. Without them, I would be nothing.

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)
by John Lennon

Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monster's gone,
He's on the run and your daddy's here.

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,

Every day in every way,

It's getting better and better.

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy.

Out on the ocean sailing away,

I can hardly wait
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both
Just have to be patient.
Cause it's a long way to go,
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime,
Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is what happens to you,
While you're busy making other plans,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy.




Darling Jim and Brian and Sawyer . . .

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