Mothers and Their Sons

During this current Swell of Waves, there is one thing that I’ve noticed and it really stands out. I’m feeling angry.

Not at Barry. All I want to do is hold him in my arms and tell him I’ll fix everything. Isn’t that what mother’s do? Don’t they try to fix everything for their children? Don’t they try to take away the hurt and worry…and the pain? Believe me, I would if I could.

No, I’m not angry at Barry. I’m angry at other mothers and their sons. Yes, I’m angry and I’m jealous.

I walk down the street and see mothers and their sons going about their business. I find myself thinking, “Make the most of it, you may not have him tomorrow.” Typing those words makes it sound like some sort of a threat. That’s not how it’s intended and I’m not wishing bad things onto other families. I would never do that. Not for a second. The whole reason for this website is the reverse.

I can’t help the way I feel. I guess I just feel sorry for myself. I long to walk down the street with Barry at my side and I want to be able to do all the things other mothers and sons do together – even if they do it silently. This past week I’ve noticed my gaze following people, the feeling of jealousy ripe in my heart. I’m angry at these people, complete strangers, because they can do something I cannot. I know. I have another son I can do these things with, but I crave for Barry’s company. Isn’t that normal? It saddens me to think that I’ll never attend Barry’s wedding or hold the grandchildren Barry would have given me. I’m jealous of all the Mother’s Days and Christmas Days I’ll be without my son. I’m still angry that life goes on and I’m feeling as if I’m having trouble keeping up.

It upsets me that I feel this way. It’s not their fault I’m suffering. Just like it wasn’t the world’s fault when I wanted everything to stop and wait for Barry to catch up…even though I knew he was dead. But I look at young men with their mums – sitting on a bench talking, walking around the shops buying clothes, preparing to get into a car for a driving lesson – and I want that back in my life. I want Barry back. He’s been away for a long time and now it’s definitely time for him to come home. I insist. But my words mean nothing because Barry’s not around to hear them.

In some ways I feel as if I’ve taken several steps backwards. Barry is never far from my mind, and he never leaves my heart. I find myself talking to him a lot lately; telling him things that are on my mind. This isn’t a good sign. To me, it means I’m feeling overwhelmed and talking to him is a way of releasing the pressure. When I feel less stressed, I know I’ll stop doing this.

I’m depressed, bordering on depression. I don’t want to sink into the darkness, but can feel it hovering nearby. I know the feelings I’m having are normal, but gazing at strangers with anger and envy isn’t healthy. I need to find a way of pushing these strong feelings aside.


2 thoughts on “Mothers and Their Sons

  1. I read your story . I’m totally touched by your words and feel your pain. My story is a little different however , I was looking for a story of mothers and their sons for some relief and found yours and I’m glad I did . Thanks for sharing your thoughts with the internet world.

    From someone who appreciated it .


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