Just recently

I found out, through random conversations and slip-ups, that he used to call my friends (just after the incident, i suppose). isn't that surreal.

he missed me enough to call my friends but not enough to come and get me...it is a strange thing, the way we react to our feelings. And even stranger how those feelings are no less subject to scrutiny as the actions that follow. (Or, rather, shouldnt be). Who am I to say he didnt love me, or didnt love me enough? Who am I to say he did the wrong thing, or the right?

I can say this: I ve recently realized that I am finally becoming a mom. I realize that I have formed this connection with my son that shouldve been there from the beginning--but wasnt. perhaps it comes from a lack of a model, perhaps it comes from maturity, perhaps from the realization that this parent thing is not temporary and that I matter- a great deal- in the grand scheme of his development and the responsibility is less overwhelming now. perhaps. I dont really know, but the realization is real.

I miss him, really really miss him, when i dont get to see him. It wasnt always this way. I am worried for the things that I do that will stay with him forever. I am worried that I will not be good enough. I worry I am not good enough now, when it is most important.

I know that things happen the way that they should. I fervently believe this and it calms me to a point. You have done a better job than I ever could have. And you know this. I think I know this,too, though one can never know for sure. But things, do, after all happen the way that they should.

I am deeply flawed. But isnt everyone, somehow? And does it really matter, if you do the best you can? I mean, of course it matters, but what about doing the best you can? What about the trial and error, the fight to finish?

I tell people I am raising a warrior. I am trying to help him know that the effort is more important than the outcome because it is the fight to the finish line that builds character and makes a real impact. I try to get him to understand that its the losses that teach you how to be better- how to "try another thing" and not be ashamed that you have to. Maybe if he understands this from the very beginning hell figure out the right way way before the middle of his life. If he can appreciate his mistakes and not be concerned with looking "less-than" he can be stronger, and more efficient, better prepared to make good decisions.

I hope, at least.