“I’ll hold you in my heart forever.”
I got the message from Jason in a laminated photo card from 2003 that I found as I went through the last box I was whittling down, packing to leave the next day on our cross-country journey, vacating the house in time for the new tenants. It was in a box of momentos from a chaotic bureau drawer that had not been searched since before we moved to Ipswich. It’s not something I would normally keep, a leftover from the bundled package of 5th grade school photos from Lifetouch, and the kind of souvenir I would judge as being a bit chintzy or something to that effect (well of course parents hold their children in their hearts.)
I know now why it was kept. It had a message for the future for me.
Jason is holding me in his heart forever.
Jason is here for me. He is helping me prepare for my big journey. He is telling me that everything is in my heart and in his heart. There is nothing else that is really important.
Earlier in the evening when the walls of Kule’s room resurfaced after last-minute removal of furniture, we discovered another message posted on the wall.
How in heck did we ever miss seeing that after we moved Jason’s bed? We saved all the poetry and funny creative sketches Jason had posted on his walls, but we didn’t see this one. This was an intimate and heartful one not intended for public viewing, but meant for us to see it at the right time. This was the time, to give us one last message from his wall. I swear he posted it after Kule moved in, I wouldn’t be surprised!
With those two messages, I flowed through the late hours of the night finishing our packing and lifting the last few boxes into the attic. Our home is also holding us in her heart, holding our stuff, should we need it again some day before we sell the house.
It is now 4 days after leaving our home in Ipswich. I am sitting on the riverview porch of Kule’s brother Kim in Wisconsin, feeling the caress of the sun and breezes. It’s time for R&R, after some intense packing, long drives, and sweet socially active times with my college friend Monica in Ohio and Kule’s brother Jon’s family outside Chicago.
I shed a few tears of grief, of gratitude, of relief, of awe. We are really doing this. We are homeless and we are home-ful. We are on a journey similar to what I was supporting Jason to do before going to college, and it’s a journey I have wanted to take for some time.
Jason is inspiring me every step of the way.
Forever.
Love,Mom
I got the message from Jason in a laminated photo card from 2003 that I found as I went through the last box I was whittling down, packing to leave the next day on our cross-country journey, vacating the house in time for the new tenants. It was in a box of momentos from a chaotic bureau drawer that had not been searched since before we moved to Ipswich. It’s not something I would normally keep, a leftover from the bundled package of 5th grade school photos from Lifetouch, and the kind of souvenir I would judge as being a bit chintzy or something to that effect (well of course parents hold their children in their hearts.)
I know now why it was kept. It had a message for the future for me.
Jason is holding me in his heart forever.
Jason is here for me. He is helping me prepare for my big journey. He is telling me that everything is in my heart and in his heart. There is nothing else that is really important.
Earlier in the evening when the walls of Kule’s room resurfaced after last-minute removal of furniture, we discovered another message posted on the wall.
How in heck did we ever miss seeing that after we moved Jason’s bed? We saved all the poetry and funny creative sketches Jason had posted on his walls, but we didn’t see this one. This was an intimate and heartful one not intended for public viewing, but meant for us to see it at the right time. This was the time, to give us one last message from his wall. I swear he posted it after Kule moved in, I wouldn’t be surprised!
With those two messages, I flowed through the late hours of the night finishing our packing and lifting the last few boxes into the attic. Our home is also holding us in her heart, holding our stuff, should we need it again some day before we sell the house.
It is now 4 days after leaving our home in Ipswich. I am sitting on the riverview porch of Kule’s brother Kim in Wisconsin, feeling the caress of the sun and breezes. It’s time for R&R, after some intense packing, long drives, and sweet socially active times with my college friend Monica in Ohio and Kule’s brother Jon’s family outside Chicago.
I shed a few tears of grief, of gratitude, of relief, of awe. We are really doing this. We are homeless and we are home-ful. We are on a journey similar to what I was supporting Jason to do before going to college, and it’s a journey I have wanted to take for some time.
Jason is inspiring me every step of the way.
Forever.
Love,Mom
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