Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Life Part II...

My life changed on July 10, 2010. That day my son drowned in a pool. He was 21 months old and his name was Noah. Seeing his name in print makes me feel like he wasn't all a dream. I'm still not quite ready to write about it but I know in time it will come out. Where my life has gone since that day is what I want to focus on, with inevitable tie-ins to my life before that day all coming out as they seem good and ready. This journey, after the death of a child, can't be rushed. The journey back from the saddest of sadnesses to the "new reality" as I've seen it called in self-help books

I had been looking for a job for a few months when the accident happened. We had seen the poster go up in the window for the new Stew Leonard's Wines that screamed "Now Hiring!". We wrote down the phone number and I began bracing myself for entry back into the workforce after being a stay-at-home-mom for almost 2 years. Noah was ready for school. Then the accident...

The Rabbi left the hospital after there was nothing more for him to do. He turned on his car radio to 88am and immediately was listening to a PSA for water safety, read by Stew Leonard Jr, telling the story of how he lost his 21 month old son Stewie, the exact same seconds. The Rabbi told the story of insane coincedence at Noah's funeral. I just remember Cantor Novick standing behind me playing with my hair and holding Stacy's hand on the left and Hal's hand on the right. I remember letting loose one of those gutteral cries at one point during the service.

A few weeks later I was interviewing for a job. I was wearing one of my favorite tops that happened to be a maternity top and some khaki pants. I only had "mommy"clothes and I put this together hoping it would look business casual...whatever that means. I just knew I needed this job. I needed to prove to myself that life was not over no matter how much I thought it truly was. I needed to fill my days. I needed to hide behind the facade of a regular person, not like the childless mother I was. My little buddy was gone. Ironically, "sink or swim" was the only metaphor I had in my head.

I got the job. I wanted to tell my mother but kept forgetting she had died 3 months prior to losing Noah. She would've been so proud of me. I met Stew and his wife about a week later. I was now a member of this small club that no one wants to be part of.

Something about the repetition of wine bottles on the shelves hypnotize me into a relaxed state. So does that sound crazy? Well, it's true. Each bottle has its own personality and promise of deliciousness or complexity or too tannic or too acidic or just the right balance of all. Each label is a work of art. Each bottle has the promise of a moment to lose yourself in a glass. I look for ways to lose myself on a daily basis...

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