Call it a breakdown, call it a meltdown, call it grieving out loud, or call it losing your shit…it’s all the same and can happen at the drop of a hat, or the sight of a certain toy, or a particular scent and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it but take it as it comes. It doesn’t matter if you’re in mid-conversation with someone, or in a crowded store, or alone in your bed…it comes with a vengeance and the pain rushes through you like an electric steel rod.
This happened to me this evening. As I sat my chair in the same place I have for years at the Kalkaska baseball feild, memories came at me like the biggest waves in the ocean, ready to knock me down, and they did. The last time I was there, I took Payton and my nephew Brantley with me to Maddi’s game. Brantley was running around, he’d just learned how to walk..and run. He was so cute and Payton was so helpful making sure his baby cousin didn’t run onto the feild. The entire time we were there Payton was asking for money for the concession stand. A parent next to me (I can’t remember who) laughed everytime I pulled out another dollar to give him. He would come up, reach in my bag of popcorn, then shove his mouth full and ask for money.
Tonight, there were no little hands to dig in my popcorn bag. There were no kids for me to watch over. There was no one to ask me for dollars or to tie his shoe for the 14th time. Sounds relaxing right? Wrong. It was sad, and painful.
Thankfully Maddi’s teacher chatted with me and accepted some popcorn. She thanked me, and I thanked her. I don’t think she knew how much it actually meant to me to have her to share my popcorn with. It’s the little things like this that we all take for granted. I didn’t realize that day at the feild last year would ever come back to my mind. It wasn’t important, or special…at the time. But it is now, because it was a day I spent with my boy and a day I remember. Miss him more than words could ever tell.
Payton Strong 