A hard day…

Can I just bypass February 12? We acknowledged our son’s 28 birthday yesterday. As an interesting (to me) aside, at his first birthday, I was 28 times older. Last year I was exactly twice as old and this year, a little less than twice his age. Sort of an interesting mathematical conundrum, I think. He has been living with us now for a week and is miserable and unhappy – there literally is nothing to do here in this small town compared with St. Louis, plus he gave up his apartment, his furniture, his fish, his “life”. But, it was either come back home or go to a homeless shelter. Tomorrow he starts work at a sawmill, so perhaps that will help. He’ll have something to do and will start earning some money, but even with the job and living at home, he may have to declare bankruptcy. There is a grief associated with being the parent of child who isn’t quite “normal.” I have no way of knowing how it compares to the grief of having a child die. I had a dear friend who was 88 years old and had buried three children. She still remembered the day her 3-year-old died some 65 years earlier. But I do know that this other kind grief is also intense and long-term. Hope always tries to spring eternal, but in our case it just keeps getting slapped down. And now that the Republicans are in power in this state, their first order of business (according to the State of the State speech) will be to dismantle the social services programs for poor people (Medicaid, in particular). So I don’t know what kind of mental health help we can get for him. And just what no one needs is yet another sappy, tear-jerker “best dead dog in the world” story, but here it is: Two years ago on Feb 12 we had to put Little Dog to sleep and it was all our fault that this happened because we neglected to have his teeth cleaned. He was a wonderful companion for 14 years, and I miss him terribly. And then there’s the guilt on top of that. It was easy to forget when Big Kitty died – I have no clue at all except that it was probably in the Spring. The unfortunate coincidence of Little Dog needing to be put down on the same day that our son was born means I will always be able to remember. RIP Little Dog.