Best story continued… #2 Brendon

Another best friend… my son… Brendon.  For some reason I can feel everything about him.  When I was bullimic, it was easier, because when you bury the hurt with food, you can’t feel the choke in the throat, the pain in the heart, the need to reach out and hug and can’t because he’s too far away, or just doesn’t want to.

Brendon… special.  Not in ANY more loved than my other two, but more connected with my intuitive feelings for some reason.  Brendon.  My first born and someone I was with alone many, many months and he was like attached to my hip.  He was there for me for the next two beautiful babies and never left my side when I was pregnant.  Touched their little kicks, listened to their heart beat.  He was a very big part of my life when it came to support…. except when his dad came home, in later years, he would be angry.

I told my son tonight that I understood my grandmother.  I told him how she didn’t want anyone to love her because it would make it easier when she died.  I’ve felt that forever.  But when my nephew Ross died I realized something.  No matter how far you are, how mean you are, how distant you are, how much you try to numb the love and make others numb too towards you – if that human being truly loves you it’s not possible.  It just isn’t.

To Brendon, thank you.  Thank you for loving me through my most awful motherly periods, for when I left, for when I moved, … thank you for never giving up on me.  Here’s a tear for a parent that has just realized I actually have many years to catch up on with my parents, my sister, and my children.  Years when I didn’t want to connect because not only was I NOT wanting you to love me, I equally was so afraid to love too much.

…. didn’t work.  I am destined to love too much – my children, my parents, my sister, my best friends, my children’s father…. you can’t bury that in food.  It may hurt to face it, but in the end it would have hurt more not to hurt.


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