The Memory of Love

At some point, maybe when the boys got significantly bigger than me, I started to think of the three of them as “my guys,” my husband and my two sons. They thought and acted differently than I did, took up more space, and needed to behave differently in front of their peers. As the only woman in their lives, I considered it my duty to teach them how to act around women and accepted that bathroom humor and insults were part of the language they used among themselves.

They were my world and I loved them deeply. Now I am excluded from their group, not because they want to do “guy” things, but because my youngest says he wants to do “woman” things. He sometimes dresses in ill-fitting and unattractive dresses and says he wants to use the women’s bathroom. He says he has to take hormones so he can do these things. In my family women maintain contact with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, organize family gatherings, and provide care for family members in need. My youngest does not do these things, nor do his father and brother. They do not even answer when I call and text.

I remember loving them, the smell of my children’s heads, joining in their fantasy games, and doing everything I could to be there when they needed me. I remember the deep connection my husband and I had when we were working together toward our goals, and the happiness of just relaxing in his company.

I love my aging father fiercely. At age 90, he is letting go of life with dignity and a determination not to be a burden on my mother, my sister, and me. I am doing everything I can to help him. It is sad, but it does not feel wrong. He will leave us soon, but he lived a good and long life. I recently lost my best friend to a fast-moving brain cancer. Her loss has left an empty space in my life, but no pain in my heart. I still love my guys, but that love hurts my heart.

When my parents are gone, who will I love? I don’t seem to be able to connect with anyone else. Few people know about my children; even fewer want to talk about them. I don’t even like the idea of telling a new friend about my children’s situation. I do try to have a social life. I have a business and I enjoy my customers. I have my female friends over, and everyone seems to enjoy it. I have a couple of old boyfriends who are usually up for going out. I check that damn dating website and I have been on several first dates, but I feel increasingly alone. If I live as long as my parents, I still have about a third of my life ahead of me. If things do not change, I will be estranged from my ex-husband and children for about as long as I had them with me.

I do love God. I trust his plan. Many people do not get sixty or more years in a loving family. I have been blessed by love, and I must be grateful for that in the years ahead, grateful for the memory of love.