Sometimes I get sick of writing about how sick I am because my son has HCM heart disease. I get sick of myself crying all the time and not being able to handle myself. I decided that perhaps I will start writing letters to my son on my blog. He will never read them, but it may be good for me to put my feelings into words of a letter instead of a rant.
This is the first.
I was so worried about you yesterday. You slept almost the entire day. I peeked in your room no less than seven times. I admit that I was making sure you were breathing. Your younger brother told me you were not feeling good and my tummy dropped to my toes. I was so relieved when you awoke to find you only had a super bad cold, or perhaps it was your yearly allergies. At any rate, I was afraid.
When you came in from work today and said that you were so depressed, I felt so bad for you. I know your Damn Motorcycle is in the shop again, but even though I Hate to see you Ride it, I would hate to see you ride it even if you had a healthy heart…..but I am sad because you are sad. It really does seem that you have spent a ton of money on it, and it’s in the shop more than it is on the road, and I know how frustrating that can be.
I did not mean to ‘brush off’ your concerns about your car either. I know it is aggravating that your dash lights are not working. Believe me, when I drove your car the other night I was aggravated myself. It really is most likely an easy fix. I am sorry you thought I did not think it was a big deal, but I really don’t think it is a big deal…..it’s an easy thing to fix my love, and not anything to get so upset about.
It is most infuriating to work with a group at school and no one does the work. I have been there myself, and have heard the same complaint from many college students. Sometimes you just have to do the work and carry the load, if only so you can get a good grade.
I know that finals are nerve wracking. Soon you will be on break and I wish you would not think such negative thoughts–like you are not going to be accepted to the Universities you want because your grades have fallen a little. You work like a dog, and I know you love your job, but it’s hard to work and go to college too. You also found out about your heart seven months ago, so of course your grades were going to fall. You are your worst critic. I am not telling you platitudes when you tell me about your troubles, I offer solutions for you because I really do believe that you will get into the schools you want, and I really do think that your car and Damn Motorcycle problems are small and easily fixed.
I am hurting with you because that Silly Girl won’t talk to you anymore and I am sorry your last date did not go well. I wish you would see yourself as I do, or better yet, as God does. Your loving nature, caring heart, gentlemanly behavior, sweet, and kind….so many girls would love to be with you….you just have not met her yet, I promise you this. I know for a fact that if you took your guitar and played outside of the campus, and forgot your troubles for a while, the girls would not be able to resist you….Don’t let one girl get you down.
I hate it when you are depressed. I hate it when you are sad..I wish I could make it all go away, buy you an ice cream cone, blow bubbles, play with sidewalk chalk, buy you a new Bicycle…..just like when you were little. Unfortunately we are both growing older, and I always seem to say the wrong things.
And Yes…I did text your sisters and told them to stay in touch with you and text you each day with funny pictures or videos….I told them that you were sad and depressed and that you needed support….I am such a meddler sometimes, I know, but I worry about you…and I know that they will make you laugh when everything I say irritates you….
I love you my darling…