Some suggested that there was no room. But even that night, in between the therapy session and the serious discussion, there was chatter about what his friends said that day that was funny. As we waited for the waiter to bring more chips and salsa, I learned about the new kid that is hanging out with the old crowd and how he's a really good athlete. I heard about who is getting buff, and what his girlfriend did the other day. So, I know there is part of him that just wants me to know and love him. There is absolutely part of me that wants the same.
Even up to the day he left, I knew what the signal was. He never said, "Mom, I need to talk." He didn't make an announcement at the dinner table, or come in the door and ask if I had some time.
I suppose the way he handled it might have been left over from when I used to make time for him every night; I sang him to sleep for years. I used to sing "Amazing Grace" and almost gave up and moved on to another song because I thought he wasn't listening. He never sang it with me, or on his own during the day. But one eight year old night when I was about to start singing, he asked, "Mom, what's a 'branch like me?'" He had confused the lyrics "wretch like me!" He was listening!
What he did the last couple of years was wait until I was ready to go to bed and then come and lay on top of my covers with me, and just start talking. Sometimes he would lay on his tummy and pull up his shirt a little, too, meaning I should rub his back while he talked. My 5'11" little boy. Mostly I just listened. Sometimes I shared some insight. Always I was there. And so was he.
I will miss that indefinitely.