Birthday——– Chris Ritchey—–August 21st 2013
Part 19 The Journey – In Search of my Son
No more candles on cakes to remind us of another year passing since you came into being. No more laughter , smiles , presents and special dinners shared. No more toasts to “life” with vodka and cranberry juice.
Just memories of your first birthday and your last birthday- the one filled with hope and so much joy
I held you , propped up on my knees, looking at your little face, all red and blotchy, little finger nails so perfect and I made the promises mothers make- I talked to you of life , your big sister and how I would never let you down , I would do everything I could to keep you safe and give you happiness. I was so grateful for the gift of your life. I can remember every word I spoke to you that morning and then Dr. Shotz telling me as long as my mother would be at home with me we could leave and start our lives as mother and son and take home MY birthday gift – YOU!
I sat trapped having to listening to what I considered inane comments , stupidity and selfishness of thinking by your bride’s vacuous grandmother and her brood https://thatwoman.wordpress.com/2011/09/03/september-3rd-war-movin-on-hell-truly-is-other-people-chris-ritchey/ who had decided to “surprise us” ( although I know your “bride” wasn’t surprised )
As much as I try I cannot get your last birthday out of my head as the surgeon confirmed that the cancer was back- a gift of death on your birthday I had Nikki take me home – I knew that if you saw my face as you came round in the recovery room- you would know things were bad and I couldn’t bring you that pain on your birthday and I knew I couldn’t hide the horror from you ! Guilt swept over me as I also knew that by me not being there when you woke up would also cause you concern- I only hoped the excuse Nikki had to get back to feed Gavin would be plausible. I just couldn’t let you see what I know was written on my face.
I cried tears of great happiness the day you were placed in my arms and I continue to cry everyday from the day you were taken from us. I so miss your laughter , your irreverent humor, the way your nose would wrinkle just before you would smile.
I can still hear the echoes of a little boy calling _
Dad come up and kiss me goodnight”
as day turns to another night. I see the candles you gave me for my birthday- we always shared birthday celebrations- you were supposed to be born on my birthday…..
But now the celebrations cease – you see the day you died the part of me the was “the mother of Chris” died too…….the love that was especially for you has no focus- it bottles up inside me until it releases in hot scalding tears that burn like the flames of the candles……. and another year passes … Life goes on ……… and the candles burn…………….and my poor heart breaks into yet another thousand pieces……
The Journey- In search of My son continues
Part One – In search of my son- In search of me
Part Two – Tourjours Moi-Always Me
Part Three – Always Me – Always Chris
Part Four – In search of My Son-
Chris Ritchey – Thanks
Part Five – Dark Humour- Shedding a Light
Part Six – The Unfinished Portrait
Part Seven– The Unfinished Portrait- The Artists
(2) Part Two – Who Are We Really?
Part Eight– When Premonition Becomes Hindsight
Part Nine– When Premonition Becomes Hindsight – Part Two
Part Ten (a) – There is an “I” in Death
Part Ten (b)- I didn’t know my son- Chris Ritchey
Part Eleven- Unfinished Portrait the Artistic Gene
Part Twelve- Unfinished Portrait- the Artistic Gene- Part Two
Part Thirteen– A Place of Echoes
Part Fourteen – An Absence of Laughter
Part 15 – Who I am , the artist speaks
Part 16- The Lowest Ebb- I knew my son- Chris Ritchey
Part 17 – The Journey Continues- I long for Laughter- Chris Ritchey
Part 18 Birthday- Chris Ritchey and the Chris Miss Present!
Disclaimer : These events are as I perceived them to be and are witnesssed and documented .
Entry filed under: Chris Ritchey, death, grief, hell is other people, Love, Mothers. Tags: Angela ritchey DO, Christopher D. Ritchey, christopher ritchey lorain, death, grief, hodgkins lymphoma, Lombardi-Lorain, motherhood, mothers and sons, obscenity of cancer.