Memory Chimes

We took our camper on a trip to Wyoming and while there with family members, we were able to have another small memorial for Ryan.

It was similar to the one at our home, where a few of us sprinkled ash on the Uncle Tree planted for him.

This time, each person added a chain to a wind chime when they told a story or memory they had of Ry.

My SIL, Terry, prepared family photos to add along with chains, bells, stones, and charms.

She set the supplies out, and family members gathered around the craft table to make a length of chain and charms with a tinkling bell at the end.

The wooden parts were hand crafted by Terry’s husband, Dale.

Sugarwings picked a blue chain to use, because of course, a Favorite Color is a major consideration for her.  When she moved on from pink to aqua as a new beloved color, it was a major announcement and life style change.  

I listen to her  discussing Favorite Colors with others and it is almost as if they are talking about something that defines them, not just a preference for a shade.

After raising rowdy boys, this fascination with Favorite Colors amongst the grand fairies was  a change.  Maybe I just never ease-dropped on or appreciated the conversations my two sons had the way I do with these girls (who by the way, are also very rowdy).

After losing Ryan, I have given a lot of thought to how I raised him and his brother way back when, and how different I am with the new sibling duo now.

There are regrets.
Lots of regrets.

Many mistakes were made my first time around the block.

When Ryan came along, I was 19, and he was a baby who needed more than I could offer.

We were far from family or help, he didn’t sleep more than an hour and a half, which meant that I didn’t either. (For months and months).

I lived in poverty, and didn’t even have a phone to call family for advice.  It was a 45 minute drive to a pay phone, and sometimes Ryan and I would be alone with no transportation for weeks at a time.

 Looking back, I am sure that I had postpartum depression, but that wasn’t something mothers were screened for much  in those days.

I have always said, “Ryan wasn’t an easy baby.” He cried nonstop, and so did I.

Now, I can see that his problems started with me, not with him and it wasn’t fair to put the blame on a baby.  My inability to care for him was why he was so unhappy.  If I’d had just a little help, someone to hold him and comfort him while I napped, could I have been able to comfort him myself?  

Sugarwings and Dewdrop haven’t always been “easy” themselves (what kid is?).  But my attitude and mental health have been different with them. I wish I could have given Ryan what I gave to them.  He deserved more.

All of my kids have some form of sensory or learning disorder and I never thought I was up to any of it.

I felt like my boys deserved someone better, stronger, more knowledgeable, than me to get them through it.  It wasn’t until I had grand fairies that I felt like I was doing something right.  Maybe the boys helped me work through all of the insufficiencies that I had in raising them.

Ryan and Adam-I am sorry that I was not the mother I should have been for you.  But thank you for the lessons you taught me.  Thank you for helping me become a better grammie. Because you suffered through my insecurities and my impatience, I know how to be patient now.

Ryan grew up to be a remarkable man.  I wonder what he could have become if he’d had a mom who was prepared for a child with difficulties and in a better financial and emotional state when he was born?

Hopefully, I made his rough start up to him later on.  He had a generous soul and never showed me anything but an abundance of caring..

I have been so proud of who he became, and love hearing people describe his kindness and gentleness when they speak of him.  The remarks family made while adding a bell to Terry and Dale’s wind chime design were quite moving.

 Losing an adult child is a layered grief.  At first, I mourned the thoughtful man who was my beloved friend and walking companion.

Then, I’d have flashes of him as a child or a teen and a fresh pain would strike me, taking my breath away.  Thinking of him as a newborn rips my heart out.  

I am trying to remember the happy times with him, that cute little face looking up at me with joy. Remembering  each story that was shared as a chain was added to the wind chime. 

And appreciating that knowing him helped me to learn to be better.