On Friday B showed up at 8:30am with a pot of flowers. These kinds of gifts touch me the most, the kind where an 18-year-old boy thinks of flowers on his own without his mother's help, and buys them with his tip money knowing he needs that money for gas. And gets out of bed during his spare to bring them to school instead of sleeping in. And these gifts hurt me the most because I know how much they really cost; too much, way too much.
He trembled when I hugged him. I could feel him breaking, six feet two becoming 7 years old. We went to my office where he almost immediately started to cry. Afraid of graduating, afraid of losing touch with friends. Afraid of his sexual orientation. Afraid of being apart from the groups, and the individuals, who have made him safe here. And I understand all of that. It hurts that I cannot make him safe outside this building, cannot protect him, and I know he will be hurt. It is inevitable he will be hurt because he is sensitive like that, sensitive and numb, fragile and reckless. I miss him and it would be so much easier not to if he was more confident that he was going to fine - or if I was.
The year is winding down and I am preparing to say goodbye to a number of people who are very, very important to me.
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2 comments:
Saying good bye to someone you've nurtured and grown to care about is always hard.
It really is. I hate letting go when I feel like I'm not done yet.
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