This passed week was my week with T. I saw him one evening, Tuesday while the rest he was working at his dad’s after school. Was looking forward to Friday evening and Saturday with him. But as usual the best laid plans and all.
Friday evening he spent it in his room on his Xbox. Watching t.v. and playing his games. Saturday morning he slept and it was noon by the time that he finally arose. Around 3 or so his dad messages that they were coming to pick him up to help them unload the truck from his grandparents. They are moving from Winnipeg to Niverville, a closer commute to visit and a senior community.
And it snowballed. I messaged asking what the hell was going on? The ex says I can pick T up after work when I come and have him check the bolt pattern on the new rims for the car. I shot back that I was off because IT WAS MY WEEKEND WITH T.
There were tears. T cried because I was upset. And I hurt him. I told him this was my worst fear coming true. He no longer wanted to spend time with me. He only wanted to be with his father and friends. That it killed me. I have not had him home with me on the weekend for three weeks.
I made him cry. T that is. He was upset because his friend had gone to help them load up and begin to move things. The ex had canceled T when I asked him that he check with me before making plans on my weekend in case I had something I wanted us to do. So after cancelling him, they then message to tell him that J is there and they need his help to unload the van.
When I locked the door behind him, I made it to the bottom of the stairs before I crumbled. I hung onto the edge of the dishwasher and howled, the pain had to go somewhere, forced out of my throat. I sobbed until I could not breath. My heart was breaking and I did not know how to stop it.
I cried in the shower. I was able to stop when I got out but it happened again on the drive to the ex’s.
I was ok there, did not cry until I was driving down the drive to leave. Then I sobbed a little bit. Sobbed various times throughout the day yesterday. And now as I sit here, I am crying.
I am not ready for him to leave me. I am not ready for my son to grow up and spread his wings. The catch is, I want him to be independent and strong, able to are for himself, but I also want him to still be the little boy who will always need me.