I'm back at home (again)

Damn our psycho weather this past few months! An ice storm came through and knocked out the power for 3 days. C'est la vie.

The finally got it back on today so I'm comfortable and warm at the moment.

We ended up at mom's house. She has a different power company and (damn them) they are small and thus GREAT at restoring power. When you use the big behemoth power company us little folks end up at the bottom of list while the mall and the upper 6 digit income houses get hooked back up first.

For the most part being at moms wasn't too bad. Some friends of theirs with a son about James' age came over (since they didn't have power either) and James and him had a great time.

All told it was 2 days of WAYYY to much time with my mother.. but hey.. you do what you have to do.

Things went well until my mommy sense started tingling. I'd not heard my son for at least 20 mins. I got up and started searching the house. I was on recon.. I didn't call his name. He might have been sleeping (yeah right), deeply involved in something, or (my bet) getting into trouble.

When I found him I knew that none of these things was the problem. I found him laying in the dark on my brothers bed, Uncle John, to my son.

I stood in the doorway and asked him if he wanted to come out and play with me and the other boy. No answer, but sniffles. As I climbed up and the bed and pulled him into my arms the heart broken wail started. "I miss my Uncle John" he said.

We sat on John's bed and rocked and talked for along time. I told him all the things parents tell young kids when they are dealing with a senseless death. John loved us. John wouldn't want us to be sad or hurting. It's ok to cry. It's ok to miss John. But, you have to remember there are alot of people that love you that are here to help you feel better.

My slow steady tears didn't conflict with the message I was trying to get across. It was breaking my heart to see my son hurting so badly. After about half an hour and a change of location, he was starting to wear himself out of tears and hurt and memories that one day, I hope, will not be quite so tainted with pain. We ended up at the mecca of kid feel better, McDonald's.

After he got done eating, he was able to give me a smile that didn't quaver too badly. We headed back to mom's house.

My brother's been gone three and a half months. There have been many long hard days. Sunday was one of the hardest for me as James' mom. There was nothing I could really do to help him, or heal him. I hated feeling so helpless.

On the way home from work today it hit me. I taught my brother to slow dance years ago and we still danced together from time to time. The last song we ever danced to came on the radio. It really really hit me then.. again. I'll never hear my brother laughing, talking, or singing again. I'll never get to dance with him again. I ended up in the parking lot of a church sobbing my heart out and drawing strange looks from strange people.

Damn it hurts so bad sometimes. But it is getting better.. hour by hour, day by day, month by month.

I love you John. I miss you, bro-bro.