Because I didn't get to raise him past the age of two, having him with me these last few years has been very precious, providing me with the ability to make up for lost time... somewhat. It took me about a year to recognize my little boy in the man who was creating music in his room, but he was in there all along; I no longer feel the grief I knew for so many years. I got to know his favorite foods, drinks, and music. I experienced his quiet strength and I learned how to interpret his silences. He ceased to be a stranger.
Tonight I went out to the garage to look for a curtain for the front door and his absence hit me like a wall. He and I are usually up all night, I here in the living room and he out at his workbench. There was no music, no light cloud of smoke, no head bent over his current project - Micah makes custom-designed guitar straps that are beginning to get noticed by touring bands.
Of course, I know this is only the beginning. In October he's going to England for a few weeks, then next year he'll be moving there. He'll be gone again.
Call me a sap, but I miss him already.
"Guitar is an extension of the Self
Giving reach into the depths of the soul
It is also a friend and loyal companion
When the road of life grows cold."
(Micah Atwell)
O Steph,
ReplyDeleteI understand so well what you are talking about, what with my daughter in California now. I have my moments when I feel her absence quite keenly. Hugs (((())))
Thank you Merisi.
ReplyDeleteI feel it, too. His space reminds me of our bat cave.
ReplyDelete"Daves not here man"
ReplyDelete:-)
LOL Joel!
ReplyDeleteYou're not a sap at all, Steph. It's all part of the love. I think I can relate, as I went through the same thing when my nephew Lance moved to Oregon - and he was my nephew, not my son. Lance and I did a lot together - horse shows, trips to Elderly Instruments, stuff like that. He's my buddy as well as my nephew. Sounds like you and Micah are like that, too.
ReplyDeleteYes, but he comes back..my heart feels your story very deeply..and you are so lucky!
ReplyDeleteAlthough I been with my boys since they were born, I now know what missing them feels like. I can't say it gets better because I haven't felt that yet....I miss him dearly. So, all I can say is...I understand
ReplyDeleteOh Steph..i read this yesterday and it made me cry...i didn't know if i should leave a comment.. but...here i am again today and, I just wanted to say , thank god for second chances and that ...well......love is like a boomerang...it never really leaves us and always comes back. There ..i've said it now...am going to press the publish button..! x Tons love tob xxxx
ReplyDeleteThanks, all, for your kind comments. I'm doing better now -- it was just the first night that was rough.
ReplyDeleteYou're all great!
Happy Sunday
ReplyDeleteto all of you -
I hope you get to sit on the porch and relax,
enjoying whatever pastime you chose!
Cheers,
Merisi
Thanks Merisi. Today we'll be out in the garage again, but we'll be grilling on the back porch this evening after Nettl's voice pupil leaves. I can't stay out in the late afternoon because the mosquitoes eat me alive, but after dark I like to sit on the front porch.
ReplyDeleteI should send you a bottle of the insect repellent I use when hiking. It doesn't contain DEET but it's nearly as effective. Backpacker magazine did a Consumers Reports-type test and the one I use came in second, after 100% DEET. I don't like to use DEET - its possible health effects worry me. I use Repel, which is made of oil of lemon and eucalyptus. I tested it on the Losee Lake Trail - a trail that winds through a series of marshes - mosquito land for sure - and they swarmed around me but did not land. I came home with no mosquito bites at all and that sold me on it.
ReplyDeleteThis post is endearing. Honest. It's exactly what people should be blogging about sometimes. Your words give comfort to yourself first of all. Imagine the comfort that it gives other people about their own lives. That's the gift of writing. http://finelifeonabudget.weebly.com/blog.html
ReplyDelete