“You don’t understand.”
These are his chants.
And I want to just curl in a ball as he screams. Nonstop screams, because he is right, but that doesn’t change anything. How do you explain to a five-year old that screaming all day won’t change the outcome? Won’t change the reality of today nor tomorrow? But it can make you feel sicker? How do you teach that lesson to a child that most adults don’t understand?
So he screams and we hunker.
I look back at the blog and how “easy” he once was. Enthralled with the whole experience. All the attention. Mommy sleeping in his bed, but now…that is WAY over.
He is just moody, angry, and I can’t even imagine what he feels like. I wish I could. Then I could adapt my responses. Do I continue to appease with toys? Do I try and “teach him”? You know all those Ps&Qs?
We end up giving him stuff or put on a movie. That is all that gives us a few minutes of quiet. And today his counts are even good. He can see people, but “NO!” He doesn’t want to. And Benno isn’t here. We had to send him away. He has a cold…one child a danger to another.
I was really looking forward to my WALK!
I was only 25 minutes in when the calls started. I could hear the frustration in his voice. It was Steve. And we didn’t have a good connection…adding to the frustration. “Where are you? He only wants you and a bagel. Come home.”
Ugh. Of course, I turned around…I get it. Jacob is impossible and I know Steve is trying to keep him calm but he can’t. Not like I can either, but at least Steve will have company in his misery. It does make it better. I know…I feel the same.
I had to deviate from my normal path home. Just riding the “lights.” Taking that walkman symbol whenever it in my favor to get home quicker.
And then another ring…Steve again.
I shout before he can speak. “I’M COMING!”
But he actually called to tell me Jacob has calmed down and I can keep walking. Well that’s nice, but I continue to head home and turn a corner as I hang up. I walk right into THIS.
And I listened to them memorialize all those lives lost. I listened to the bag pipes play. I looked at the audience of families of those who were lost. And I decided to join their memorial. I marched with them down 7th Avenue. I joined Mychal’s family. I read their prayer.
I walked with all of them, all of those lost.
And I felt 100% part of this community. A community linked by tragedy. All of the families were bit different. All different types of flair. I didn’t stick out. I was marching. That’s all I needed to do. Walk. I witnessed. I acknowledge you all exist. I heard how you haven’t forgotten.
All of these people who lost their spouses, fathers, mothers, standing there years later, marching.
It brought me back there. Remember the day that changed our worlds forever? A day when terror, like we had never known, came to our front door? Brought down our big buildings with gatekeepers?
And I wonder why I was brought there. Why I traveled in such an odd route. Why I turned on this street that I never taken home before after being told to “stay out.”
Maybe a lesson in not forgetting. Maybe another lesson on the importance of a village.
Not sure really, but today’s walk was a bit different.