EVERY SUMMER HAS A STORY

The Summer of 2015 was one of graduations--two of the grandkids graduated from high school, some of the grandkids graduated from Jr. High to High School or from Grade School to Jr. High or maybe they call it Middle School, I don't know. 

My 2nd son, Taylor, had his own graduation, he died and graduated from the worry, sadness, loneliness and fear that this life brought him. 

He was once the happiest man alive. He married the girl he loved. He loved her completely and forever. They had four kids. Their life was good. Until it wasn't. Even when their marriage disintegrated he didn't say one bad word about the girl he loved. He coped the only way he knew how. Alcohol and drugs. 

He went to rehab and was clean for almost exactly two years. But the loneliness and what else, we can only guess, got to him and he took some drugs. I don't think it was enough to kill him, I think his diabetes played a part but we won't know for some time yet. 

Now summer is almost over. It will always be a summer of loss and grief. For me, this fall will be one of loneliness, and grief. Should grief have a staring role in both summer and fall? It doesn't seem to matter, it's going to be done. 

It's hot here, still. The days are getting shorter. The nights are getting longer. I lie awake until it is the usual time to text Taylor. Because he worked nights we often we texted at midnight. Every night at midnight I think, "I should text Taylor and see how he is." 

I will never again see the words, "Hi, Momma," on my phone.

It is almost more than I can bear.