Thirteen

It's official--We should have a teenager.

We don't physically, obviously. I've been here, doing this blog though, for 13 years. Instead of parenting a boy to teenager-dom--as I thought I'd be doing when I found out I was pregnant the first time--I've only had words to write, grief to work through, and girls to parent instead.

I'm mostly out of words at this point. My life is non-stop, with few breaks for deep thoughts to put down here very often. There's so much heartbreak in this world--That's the realest thing I think parenting teaches you. I only vaguely remember the days when I was naive to heartbreak--The real, true, soulcrushing kind. But once you've survived it, you see it, everywhere. And it feels like I maybe absorb it more than others.I don't know. I just know that with every news story of someone being gone from this world...the visceral pain I know that family is going through--I feel it. I've lived through it, and I don't wish it on anyone.

Anyway...I was afraid last week when September hit, that I wouldn't have many words to write here this year. But then Sunday happened.

I've been working through cleaning out the girls' playroom--They still share a room. They need their own spaces now, and it's time to unload many of the toys they haven't touched in forever. Slowly, over the summer, I've been cleaning it out--Purging. I hate it because I'm super sentimental about toys. I remember too much. It's been tough. And Sunday, I got to one of the hardest parts. 

The Barbie house. 

The girls loved this house. They spent so much time decorating it, playing Barbies and LOLs in there. So many gifts from friends and family lived in that house. But now it's been sitting collecting dust. Lena's almost 12 and not interested in Barbies anymore. Lainey isn't far behind. So it's time. I needed to just tear off the band-aid of getting rid of it, so I quickly made a post on our local Buy Nothing group. I knew it would go fast, and within an hour, lots of people had said they were interestedin taking it off my hands. I really wanted it to go to someone who needed it--someone with kids who'd really use it. So I flipped through some profiles and settled on one mom who commented. She said she'd come by that night, and I was relieved. Sad, but relieved. I sat in my feels there that afternoon and just...felt. Felt like childhood is changing--Is it ending? I don't have little kids anymore. They're tweens/almost teens. I should have a teen. He's missing, but even the girls are getting older. Sigh.

Anyway. This mom shows up with 4 kids in her car and I'm immediately relieved that I picked the right person. So we go to load this 4ish-foot dollhouse into her car...and the hatch of her SUV is awkward. Too awkward. Like, nothing we do is going to make this house fit, and with four kids in the car, there really just wasn't any other options. She told me she could come back without the kids, but I told her no, you know what, we have the seats down in our SUV already--We could just put it in there, and I could follow her to her place and drop it off. She agreed.

She tells me the general area of where she lives and we start driving. We get near to where she said she lives, and I realize she's taking a right onto the major street we used to live off when Luke was born. And then after that, she took another right--Into a weird driveway. But it wasn't weird to me--because I've turned into that driveway one million times before--when we used to live at our condo. The one we lived in when Luke died. And then after that...she drove into an alley that I knew. I felt like I got punched in the heart.

This mom lives with her kids in a condo on a smalll street directly across the street from the condo we used to live in. The one we lived in when I was pregnant with Luke, when he died, when we planned his funeral and brought his ashes home. She could literally look out her front yard and see the window that was ours--See his bedroom window. This random lady, who I somehow picked from a list of random people, who then couldn't fit a giant house in her car, so I decided to offer to take it to her random house. And there I was, following her. To where our family began. Somewhere I rarely revisit.

We unloaded the dollhouse, and I hope she didn't notice how choked up I was. I did tell her that I used to live right there in that condo across the street, but stopped there. I drove by the condo as I left, and there's something about physically being there--in the physical spaces where you hold so much space in your heart. I was wistful and sad. 

But also...this was a wink. I needed it so badly. Thirteen years out, I don't feel nearly as connected to Luke's presence as I used to. But Sunday, I felt like he pulled me there--Like his spirit was with me leading me back somehow to the last place he was alive with me ON the exact day I last knew he was alive, 13 years ago. I could have passed this doll house onto anyone else. Anyone else could have had a truck that fit this thing. But no. I found someone who led me right back where we were last together and alive--without any planning on my part. 

These are the things us bereaved parents live for. 13 years later, I don't have nearly as much to say, but I know that you're still around. Thanks for the wink, Luke. 

Happy #13, my sweet boy. I'll always be looking for you.