That’s my “I’ve got 85 more days with my boy and I’m wearing a foam finger” smile. That was May 24.
Today I more resemble the boy behind me, sort of a dumbfounded look saying “what’s going on here?” combined with Keegan’s look of “is this really happening?”
Alas, it really is happening. He’s leaving a week from today.
I’ve found, that breakdowns can really occur anywhere. I have no shame.
No one is immune. Even the pediatrician, as we are discussing one of my other sons, might be the unsuspecting victim of the ugly cry.
Even in church, as they honored Keegan in front of thousands of people on Sunday, I bawled. A friend thought of calling 911, as I was almost prone in the vicinity of pew 10. Woman down.
What about the customer service rep at Bed, Bath and Beyond when I lost one of my coupons yesterday? Is that really something to get choked up about?
Because she was so gracious about the coupon though, I wanted to ask her, what exactly is the “beyond” your sign so eloquently speaks of?
What will happen to me next week as all the bed and bath supplies are purchased and hanging in his new home? How will I feel when one less place is set at dinner? Or the first time he calls and says “Mom, I’m sick.” Or the Saturday morning I wake up and just want to have breakfast with him? Or at midnight when I wake up frantic because he hasn’t told me he’s home yet? Or the countless hugs and merciless teasing which will be absent from every day?
They should just call it Bed and Bath. Adding Beyond makes it sound exciting and I for one think it’s cruel. It implies there is something in that store to fill the hole in our home.
I searched the whole place yesterday, there isn’t a thing.