Tracy Bradshaw

I came up to Todd and Bee’s boat for Memorial Day weekend. Belinda stayed home with her mom, because she has been having heart issues. She had a stint put in on Friday, and, I think, Belinda is afraid to leave her.

Bradshaw-Finding JoyTodd has gone fishing with Kenny this morning, and the boat is quiet. He put on a pot of coffee before he left and the smell is filling this little houseboat. The breeze outside encourages the gentle rocking of the boat, and my thoughts return to rocking you. The sweetest baby I ever knew I was blessed to call my own. I cherished times to rock and cuddle, bathe, wrap in soft towel, and rub your soft baby skin with lotion. You smelled so clean and fresh. Your rounded little butt cheeks fit right in my hand cupping under your bottom pulling you to my chest. Rocking and singing with mommy would put you in a most relaxed state. Donning a pamper and a clean outfit prepared you for the day or at least until bodily functions necessitated a change. My precious child, you made me whole. You gave me the most important purpose I’ve ever encountered. You made me a mommy. What a grand honor! I appreciate you for loving me in that role as I loved you. The truth is you loved me as much as I loved you, I think. When no one else could calm you, you wanted me. When you were sleepy, you reached for me. When you were sick you laid your head on my chest. When you were happy, you smiled and laughed with me.  You were the biggest joy of my life and a love I did not know existed. That love bonded us to the point that I felt your frustration when you were throwing a fit, I relaxed with you as you dosed in my arms, I was sad when you didn’t feel well physically or emotionally, and I rejoiced at things that made you smile and laugh.

I don’t know if I am feeling for you still or feeling only for myself, but I am so very sad that you are not visually here with me. The tables have turned. I reach for you. I want you, and I cry for you. I long to share sad and happy things with you. After three years and seven months I am beginning to feel again: joy in the hearts I find surrounding me, contentment in a job well done, pride in a skirt or scarf I made out of your Tshirts, and love for family and friends; however all of this is shadowed with the unending realization that I cannot do what I used to do for and with you. It is as if the dimmer switch is barely turned on at this point. Nothing good feels “all good,” and nothing bad feels all that bad either. Nothing compares to you, dear one, and that explains my middle of the road capability of feelings. I love you, and I miss hearing you say, “Mom.” You will always be my son, Sawyer, and I will always carry the name meaning more than any, “Mom.”

Love, Mom
May 24, 2015

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