Pulling out of Colorado on the 5th anniversary of my sons death just added to the emotional pain seared into my heart. This one thought kept going through my mind, “If my marriage was going to end, why could it not have ended before my son got sick”?! Maybe I could have saved him. Hence, the guilt of moving so far away in the first place resurfaced.
The minute I told my sons what was going on, my middle son Tyler bought a plane ticket and arrived that Saturday morning to drive me and my mere belongings back to Georgia. I held up one hand to my husband to say good-bye and squelched the overwhelming need to release the grieving tears I swore I would never allow my children to witness in their mother again.
That days journey took us well into Kansas and that trek was filled with conversation, laughter and talk of so many plans for my life with my boys and my grandchildren. We never once turned on the radio. Which for me is normal but my son loves his music and it was heart warming that he was content to be engaged in conversation with me instead of leaving me to my own painful thoughts that could have entangled themselves with the words to most songs on the radio.
After a long day on the road, finding a hotel with a nice little Mexican restraunt inside was the perfect “margarita filled” end to the day.