On touch

I overdid some chores the other day and did something painful to my back. Not a new problem – and usually one that clears up on it’s own. In the past I would prevail on the boy to help nudge the process along when needed, with some enthusiastic pressure on the offending muscles. A couple of days in I gave up on the wait-and-see approach and scheduled a massage.

I was completely unprepared for how emotionally jarring the experience would be. I wouldn’t normally think of a professional massage as an ‘intimate’ experience but it’s nothing like the physical contact we have with friends. It snapped me back to memories of the boy without warning. I have been without him so long now that physical contact had become unfamiliar.

I wonder how many more of these land mines I will stumble across?

I thought things would be easier by now but I continue to drift between distraction and sadness. I want to move away from the pain but at the same time, I can’t stand the thought of letting his memory fade. I’ve heard from others that at some point I will find new, different ways to be happy and move forward into a new life. I recognize the truth there. I know I can’t get my old life back by clinging to it. There’s only one direction left to move in. I’m just not ready to let go.

Sometimes I think I will never be done crying.

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