The Mask Slipped

Today my mask slipped.  I am not proud.

I have tried so hard today, I have chatted with lots of people. Maybe too many people, or maybe its just one of those days when my mask became too heavy to hold.

My T-shirts arrived from the Down Syndrome Group.  The Tshirts that will be worn to help open the Olympics.  Seeing my bubba's name on the back of the shirt, in the middle of the t-shirt, was a jolt.  A heavy jolt.  An OMG moment.  A 'this is real' moment.
There it was, my son's name slotted in amongst the names of 200 other angels.  His name stands out.  My baby is an angel.  OMG My baby is an angel.  It broke me. This realisation all over again.  It broke me.

In a weird way in amongst the scatter of my soul on the floor, there is pride.  There is pride that the world will see my son's name.  The world will see that he was real, he was loved, he was mine.  He will be at the Olympics.  
I will wear his shirt with 'happiness with sadness' mixed in, I will be proud of my son. I will wear his name on my back with pride, even though the Tshirt is white.  And I don't do white normally.

I will wear it for him, and all the other angels who make their families proud.

The Tshirts arrived while my friends were in the house.  I couldn't wait to see how it looked, but I didn't want to see it either.  My life is now a bundle of contradictions.

I gasped when I saw his name, there it was, standing out, noticeable.  My bubba.  Haydon Kennan.  My boy.  My angel.
The grip of grief was hard, like a fist clenching my heart.  But I stayed strong, other than a stray tear that escaped while I pulled my mask back up.  It didn't go un-noticed, but I pretended that it had.

We made soup.  We talked of my best friend and how he used to make soup, with me and with her.  Small memories, but precious.  I miss him too.  I miss John Boyle.  My best friend.  He can't be with me because he was needed in heaven. I believe he was needed up there, to welcome all of my babies and love them until I can again.  That's what best friends do.  And John Boyle was the best.

I wonder what John would have said to me today, but I know he would have been oozing with love for me.  I know he would have cuddled me when I cried, and then he would have given me a playful slap. He would have brought that extra 'John'  happiness to my day, he would have forced this, he would have made sure this happened.
He would have put on all of those fast Haydon songs and he would have forced me to dance, to celebrate Haydon's life, to let Haydon hear mummy's laughter while he was dancing amongst the angels.  John would have understood how broken I am, I wouldn't have to explain.  But John knew me best of all, and he would have helped to 'fix' me.  I know he would have, or he would have tried his best too.  I miss him.


Then one of my sisters came for a visit this afternoon, she brought Haydon photographs that I hadn't seen.  I felt my gut tighten and I stifled the cries from my heart, but I was grateful for them, I coped. Just.  I left the room when I felt the wave coming, but I kept it at bay.  I had to because there was more for me to do today.

I went to Papa's to get the dogs.  It was meant to be a short visit, but I was with him for 5 hours.  I love him and I would normally be happy to sit with him this long, even longer.  But today my mask was heavy.  I wanted to get home.
Papa fed me a meal because he thinks I am not eating.  I have lost weight.  But I do eat.  Not as much as I used to, but I do.
Papa brought me home and came into the house to chat with Jim.
He chatted about his life.  Being in the war.  Papa spoke about all of the relatives that he lost during the war in Poland.  I could tell he was talking with a heavy heart about his family, and some friends that were sent to concentration camps, and others who just disappeared.
I thought about his life and how many sad times he has had to face.  Papa didn't deserve any of that suffering, he is a kind man, he can be a grumpy pants, but he is a loveable grump.  I love him.

Good people suffer.  I will never understand why.

This made my heart heavy too, to see this sadness in him.  My mask was even heavier to hold by this point.

Papa left, and my mask fell.

My baby-lost friends are so wonderful and supportive.  They know what to say, how to help.
My bubba was helping to hold my mask up, but his hands were too small to keep a good hold,

The mask is heavy today.  I was reminded my son was an angel, even though I never truly forget.  My life is full of contradictions.  I hope tomorrow I can feel some happiness with some sadness mixed in.

I love my bubba, I just do.  I love John, I just do.  I love my Papa, I just do.

I need to stay around for my Jim.  I just do.  Cos I love him too. xx