The wedding was great; like a storybook wedding.  However, it was my son’s so I’m not exactly impartial.  At the service I did manage to control myself but there were some tears, but they weren’t all from me.  For perhaps the first time in 28 years, I comforted my husband as he got emotional.  I had lost my oldest son, but at least I gained a daughter. 

Today I flew home and again felt empty inside.  I felt teary eyed at the airport.  I kept thinking that only a few short days ago we had flown into this city as a family, and now we’re going home with one less member.  Once we landed, I decided to go work.  I knew jumping right back into work would take my mind off the emotional stress I was feeling.  My 16-year-old son wanted to join me.  I could tell he was feeling a sense of loss as well.  So we spent the day at the range where I taught him everything I knew about firearms.  I suppose it wasn’t your average mother-son bonding experience, but then a sobbing old coot isn’t your average cop at a wedding either. 

March 1, 2005 | Permalink

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