Day158; Footnotes of One Long Week, Mom’s Never Stop Being Mom

As I start this, I am waiting on my son to get home. He’s been gone on an adventure for the last week, but he’s currently on his way home. I’m hoping that he doesn’t run into the storm that came through here as he’s pulling a camper behind his car. If he runs into that rain, I hope he pulls over off the road somewhere and lets it pass on by. But he’s grown, he’s intelligent, he has common sense and a knowledge of what he can and can’t handle. I just hope those driving around him do as well.

 He doesn’t take off often. He works long, hard hours and then comes home.  On a rare occasion he will go hang out with friends, or go lend someone he knows a hand, but other than that, he’s a homebody. So I’m glad when he does pack up and head out. I still worry though. Not so much while he is  at his destination, but when he’s leaving point A headed toward point B or any points after. 

My son does get frustrated at and with me. Even today asking me what was wrong with me, always coming up with worst case scenarios. In his frustration he forgot. That day just over four years ago. The day I spent calling and calling and calling my husband’s phone. Listening to it ringing, but no one answering. Every break, I called his number. Any chance I could sneak, I’d call his number. My concern going to worry, going to fear, going to abject terror with each attempt. Then, my fears became fact. My husband had been found deceased, slumped over in his truck. He was found within a couple of hours of the last time I had spoken with him. The good thing about that, was his fear of dying out there on the road and not being discovered for a long time was unfounded and he was discovered quickly. Just not quickly enough to do him any good.

 Within the last few months, I’ve had friends who have lost sons due to accidents. Around the age of mine.

 I had been trying to contact him since this morning to see about what time to expect him home. He didn’t answer the phone, he didn’t respond to text messages. I knew that he was in an area that the cell service was horrible so I wasn’t too worried to begin with. But as the day wore on and even the app on the phone didn’t change, I grew concerned. When he finally called me to let me know where he was, is when he asked what was wrong with me. I guess I can’t blame him since my comment was, “I’m glad to know you’re not dead.” It slipped out I swear. But, he’s headed home and I’m feeling better. I will be upfront and honest and admit that I won’t be fully relaxed until he pulls in the drive.

 Very few people knew that he was going to be gone. I didn’t want too many people knowing I was going to be here alone. Just me and these two scared of thunder but will tear your arm apart dogs. Ask my son. He made the mistake of trying to break them apart once when they were fighting.

While he was gone, I’ve cleaned, I’ve done every bit of laundry in the house, I’ve walked and I’ve worried, a little. Okay a lot. I wanted him to be having a grand time, but safely. Again though, he has a good head on those shoulders so even though he may have done a few less that Mensa quality moves, I doubt they were hold my drink redneck.

 I didn’t have to cook, so my meals were easy made, easy cleaned.

When he finally decides to move on out, I’m going to have to work on that cooking for one thing.

I didn’t go much of anywhere. I had plans but they fell through. Which is okay. If I don’t go out, I don’t spend money.

Before my son left for his adventure, I went with him to the big box store so he could pick up some essentials. While there I saw something that gave me an idea. I’m considering creating a video blog to go along with my regular blog. Only to start I thought I’d use material from when my husband died. Discussing the challenges we faced at that time and how we got through all of that. Not to be morbid. Not to seek pity. Not to dwell in the past. But to say, yes, its really hard, but yes, we can get through. Afterwards moving on to other issues such as the loneliness, the fear, the anger that comes along with finding your way.


My son is home. He got in just a while ago and has gone into seclusion in his room. That was after he had to apologize to the official cat and pet the dogs until they were satisfied. I don’t know if he has eaten, but if not, its in there should he get hungry. I actually think he’s probably pretty well exhausted and seeking rest. He does have to work tomorrow. So I will bother him not. I am forever mom, but he is an adult and can take care of himself. And I, am very proud of that fact.

About rebecca s revels

A writer, a photographer, a cancer survivor. An adventurer of the mild kind, a lover of the simple pleasures such as long walks and chocolate. A Christian unashamed of my faith and a friend who is dependable and will encourage readily. Author of three self published books with more waiting to find their way to paper. An advocate of good things, a fighter against wrongs.
This entry was posted in encouragement, memories, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Day158; Footnotes of One Long Week, Mom’s Never Stop Being Mom

  1. You are a darling lovely mother. I can feel the warmth and the love in your words. I am so very very sorry you lost your husband. Sending you hugs. It never gets easier, huh.

    • Thank you my dear friend. When I look at it though, he would never have survived the mess we have gone through. His health was not the best. The virus is cruel and in some causes deep suffering, I fear that would have been him. His passing when he did was easier on him even as we miss him. Returning the hugs 😉 because sisters do understand.

  2. Pingback: June Eighth; How Worry Can Be Doubt Defeated | Words from The Dirt Road

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.