I used to be more carefree, a mom of 2 lively, loving boys.  I wasn’t a worrier, but in the last weeks, I’ve found myself worrying about possible tragedies that probably won’t happen.  I’ve found myself worrying about my loved ones in plane crashes, in car crashes, in bike accidents.  I wasn’t like this before.

I used to smile in pictures and not feel guilty.  I never had a closed mouth smile until now.  I used to take for granted the fact that my kids would grow old and we’d have lots more to experience together.

Last week I lived in a place that I’d lived for the last 51 years.  Last week, I was surrounded by my support network.  This week I live in Montana, down a dirt road, along a river.  While I am so happy to be out of that old house which was now full of traumatic memories, I imagined this new place with both kids by my side.

I used to be ignorant of what an overdose looks like.  Now, I know much more than I ever would want to know.  Before now, I’d never seen someone not living.  I didn’t know what that would look or feel like.  After Tommy died, I took his picture in the hospital.  I took his picture during one of his overdoses.  I think I thought that would help him stop taking these drugs and stay sober.  I wanted to be able to remind him of what an alien he looked like.  He was no longer the child that I had raised.  I took his picture in the hospital so that I would have proof that he was no longer in that body.  I asked my other son to take his picture at the viewing so that we had it.  The final picture.  I couldn’t just leave him there.  I think that the person I was before would never have known that these are the things sorrow, grief and pain force you to do. 

I used to be a great photographer who was able to bring smiles out in kids and grumpy dads who were forced to have their photo taken.  I don’t know now if I’m that same person.  

I used to laugh and get annoyed by my kids.  I now realize what a luxury that is, to be able to be annoyed by someone, especially one of your children.  I was someone who never imagined the physical side of trauma and sorrow.  I was easy going and kind.  I still am but feel a little more cautious and on edge.  I used to be someone who when asked about my kids would happily say I have 2 boys.  I am now someone who has had to put thought into answering that question.  I am now someone who will answer “I have one son in college” and just pray that they won’t ask more.  

I am no longer the mom of 2 living boys.  I am the mom of 2, but only have one with me.