Friday, December 26, 2014


Sunday was a great day that ended a great weekend. We did a fair amount of nothing, and since it was the first weekend of winter break, there wasn't any guilt involved. I made a DELICIOUS scrambled egg concoction for breakfast, followed that with a fruitless quest for a Christmas tree stand, then came home and watched football and drank a couple beers instead of wrapping presents - that could wait until Monday when we got the tree up.

John and I watched a movie in bed, and around 10:00 we began to wonder where Eric had been all day. It's not unusual for him to sleep and/or stay in his room until late in the evening, but we hadn't heard the usual music or YouTube commentary coming through the door. Figuring that he went someplace with his momma, and that's why his car was still in the driveway, John sent him a "Where are you?" text. Around midnight, after no response, He went into Eric's room and found him still asleep.

But we couldn't wake him up.

And when we shook him to try to wake him, he was cold to the touch.

And for the first time in my life, I called 911.

And our boy is dead. I don't know how to say it in a nicer way. I don't want to say it in a nicer way. There's nothing nice about it. Euphemisms are nothing I want to deal in. Death is a brutal, ugly, gut-wrenching deal, and sugar coating it doesn't do anyone a favor. Eric is dead. He will never stomp across the house again; he will never share a favorite movie again; he will never laugh at South Park, drink chocolate milk, come in to get Maude, or make a movie again.

And I miss him. And I have been missing him for a year.

Eric and I started off great. We both loved horror films, and he loved to share his favorites with me. I made a great egg mcmuffin, and when he could no longer eat the muffin because of his Celiac's, I made great scrambled eggs. We drove his dad crazy one night laughing hysterically while the GPS was going nutty, "Keep right at the next, keep right." every 30 seconds all the way from Troy to Royal Oak. When I was a bit tipsy we decided to go on a quest for Reese's, and we hopped in the van at 7:00 on a Sunday night so he could drive me all over Gladwin until we found a party store still open. We'd sit around the fire pit or on the back deck and just hang out. All was well.

In the last year, our relationship took a huge turn for the worse. He came home from film school, and felt isolated and angry and sometimes was frankly a jerk. And I, despite all of my understanding of adolescent angst, often responded back with at least an equal amount of jerkiness.

Things deteriorated quickly, and turned a bit nasty for a short time. Only a short time.

But, the damage had been done, and despite a few baby-steps here and there, our relationship wasn't what it used to be.

And I was sad.

And I wanted things to get better.

And I believed they would eventually.

And now they won't.

And I have to remember that for the rest of my life. And I will.

I will stop judging people; everyone has their "stuff" and I've got m own to worry about. I will be kind and patient, remembering that when someone is being a jerk, they have a reason for it, and it's probably that something in their life sucks. I will never miss the opportunity to love my loved-ones; work, tv, and the Internet can wait. I will be my better self. I will never again miss someone who I see everyday.

We only get so much time to stick around; I will spend it on the good.