The past few weeks have been hard on him. He’s become clingy and emotional, never wanting to leave my side, wanting me to be next to him in his bed until he falls asleep. Recently I’ve felt the unexpected slip of his little hand into mine, a rarity for him. He’s the funny one. The boy who wants to run and play and imagine. No time to cuddle, Mom, there’s pirate ships to build and castles to guard!
I have struggled over the past two years with how much time I lost with my children. And the hardest one for me is Bear. Bella was such a baby when I was diagnosed, and she didn’t know anything except for snuggles with Mommy. Ash was my conversationalist and he would pursue me, sitting on my bed to read with me and share his dreams. Bear had no concept of anything except that Mommy was sick and couldn’t enter into all the fun. I ache the most over lost time with him… of snowmen and forts and blanket tents and cowboys and superheroes… all the things he became that I couldn’t become with him.
And now, time is taking him away again. To Kindergarten. To a place I know he will thrive and grow. To a place I know he needs to go. To a place I want him to go. (I think.)
I am going to miss my Bear. That tightness won’t leave my throat, nor will the ache in my heart. And Monday, as I snuggled next to him at bedtime, he wrapped his arms around my neck and wept. “Mommy, I don’t ever want to leave you.” And I held him, soothing his rapid breaths while trying to control my own, all the while thinking…
“Is it too late to home school?”
How did this happen? When did he grow up?
When did this little 2 year old become 5? And how do I get time to stop? And if any of you mention college, I will never speak to you again.