There is just no real limit to the things that can hurt.
I grabbed the hair brush out of the cupboard this morning and started to comb Mikey's hair. The tears started rolling down my cheeks--totally unexpected. He looked up at me and I said, "It won't be long until you don't want me to comb your hair." He assured me I have plenty of time. He's such a good boy. Soon he'll be a young man and then a man. I have a catch in my throat even typing that though. I thought Ian would get to be a man.
We went to a mission farewell this weekend. It is quite a process to prepare for something like that. I know it's going to sting and I don't want to look pathetic when it does. It would be great if there were spanx or girdles for emotions--something you could just pull on to keep ugly cries from popping out where others can see it. Humiliating yourself.
I did okay. I spent part of the meeting thinking that if Ian were on a mission, I'd already be at the point where I was counting down the days.
Then there was the surprise guy on the stand who knew us when Ian was born. He had a son a month of two after. I looked around to see his son--see how big he was and how old he looked and wonder what Ian would look like.
Then, of course there was the sister of the leaving elder--one of the girls Ian always wanted to date--a girl who always made him blush. It's always hard to see her. She will be graduating soon, starting a beautiful life. It was hard to hear her dad say that she doesn't date. It's not the first time I've heard it. There's a list of girls who aren't dating, who would be if my young man were here. Keith and I lay in bed Sunday night talking about how much fun Ian would be having dating every weekend--how he wouldn't be afraid. He would just be asking and having a blast. His best friend isn't dating either. He was supposed to be doubling with Ian--that's what he told us. So he just doesn't date.
Wow, all that can just come pouring out because I brushed Mikey's hair this morning.
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