I stood there in disbelief. This is actually happening. I felt this whirl of grief rush over me. My eyes grew wide. My warmth turned to cold. My heart stopping for a moment. My cheeks sunk in bitterness. The breeze felt like the arms of God consoling me. Many memories and thoughts ran through my mind. I had held onto all of my son’s clothes, baby toys and his crib for years. I carried them with me through every move and every transition, and now I was finally letting them all go. Go..as in gone…as in forever out of my life…meaning I had to let go.
I know I stood there staring at these items for only about a minute or two, but that was all I could handle. I had to turn away to cry. To mourn the removal of them in peace. I wish I could of lasted longer. Have you ever said goodbye to someone and felt like it wasn’t good enough? This is how I felt, but my emotions were getting the best of me. I wept in silence. My lip quivering, my eyes in redness, and my heart pounding through my chest due to my sorrow.
I kept these items in hopes of having another child. I’ve always wanted a second child, my son has always wanted a sibling as well, but it’s just never been in the cards. I had hopes that I would do things right this time. Maybe I would find a partner that is truly a great father, get married first, have a child together, and then, raise our child properly without the knowledge of a broken home. Now as I watch these items of hope leave me, I feel as though that dream is gone.
“But you’re still young”, I hear. I will be 31 years old on Thursday. Yes, I am still young, but by the time I have another child, my son will be approaching his pre-teen years. Depending on the timing, my son could already be a teenager. His hopes for a sibling may pass and will be too focused on other social opportunities. The fact is yes, I am still young, but my son will not be young enough to fully reciprocate with a sibling.
My hopes have withered away as well as the memories. That crib, those baby toys and a couple totes of those clothes were all from a time where we were once a complete family. A time where I had the goal of having another child by the age of 26, instead I spent that birthday crying at the fact that my plan never happened.
These are memories of good and well, not so good. The good memories are feeding my son late nights in his puppy designed onesie. Those nights where I rocked him in my arms under the moonlight to my singing of ‘Rock-a-bye baby” for his slumber, only for him to awake to the touch of the cool crib sheet. The gleeful sight of watching my son’s first steps while holding his favorite blue stuffed doggy. Those were the sweet little moments.
The not so good memories were the problems between his father and myself. How I tried so hard to stick around to keep our family together and how his father made that absolutely impossible. Those drunken nights of him pushing me into the crib while our son was asleep in it. The impatience of how his 9 month old walking son would touch everything. The day that I finally chose to walk away that still haunts me as I carried those items to our next few homes.
I said goodbye to these things with my welting eyes, my shattered heart, my quivering lips, my torn mind and my focused stance. I was saying goodbye to my past, the future, the wonderful and the horrible. Maybe one day, I will still gain this dream of mine. Maybe letting these things go will only clear the path for a better future. Maybe releasing them will only clean my slate for a more prosperous future and desired family. Maybe it’ll still happen for us, just in a new fashion. Just maybe..