I had no real plans to write today but serendipity has raised its head and grabbed my attention.
If I said (and I am saying it) I miss Cole, some of you who have lost a child would get it much more than those who are so blessed to not be a member of this most horrible of clubs/ organizations. (Hug your kids tonight and be thankful!)
I miss Cole. Sometimes it is almost crippling. Some days I cannot bear to look at his framed picture on my dresser. Some days I can tell stories and talk about him with a smile and even a laugh.
I miss Cole and it might just be the worst feeling in the world.
When Cole was 21 he was given a personalized signed Minnesota Vikings Jersey from the great awesome ironman Brett Farve himself. It was a banner day for a kid who might have been a bigger Brett Farve fan than Brett’s momma.
We buried Cole in that jersey along with his his treasured Viking Ball cap.
But prior to Cole’s death, that kings treasure of a football jersey was pinned to the wall of his bedroom, proudly displayed for all who might see. I had a running joke with Cole about it. I always told him it was toilet paper insurance. If we ever ran out we could just take the jersey off the wall to take care of business. So about once a week I would go into Cole’s room after he was in bed and start pretending to take it off the wall.
He would about have a full fledged spasm attack laughing at me and trying to get his mom into the room to stop me at the same time. That would normally end with me in the bed with him aggravating him some, having tickle time, doing belly bops (that’s another story if you beg hard enough I might just have to share) and watching whatever sport was on TV or whatever football movie was in the DVD player.
We watched a lot of football. His two favorite movies were Remember the Titans and Facing the Giants. He knew them word for word.
I miss Cole. I miss those special fun moments when Cole wasn’t in pain. When he could laugh and giggle and tell me I was crazy.
On Sunday’s he always rode with me to church earlier than the rest of the family would go. It was easier for me to load and unload his scooter or wheelchair. I liked to be there early to take care of last minute preparations. Cole liked to ride with me and be there early to greet people as they came in the door. He could be quite the social butterfly. And truthfully, I don’t know if I could have ever been at a church that loved him more.
I wish we could have gotten some different people involved in his life at home besides Paul Buckman, but hindsight is almost always 20/20 as the old cliche goes. And of course, even if we had done a full background check, fingerprints and all, we still would have had no idea what was coming.
That sucks, but that’s what it is. (Sorry, Mom, for using the S word, but it most aptly describes the situation)
I am a big coffee drinker although the docs have me cutting back a good bit. Cole had a stainless steel travel mug he liked to take with him on Sunday’s. Sometimes I would scam him out of it and use it myself. I can hear him now… Daaaadddd, my mug.
For whatever reason, that mug has a funny smell about it. I used to think it was because Cole had such a drooling problem all of his life. He had a hard time controlling his saliva although in the last few years of his life he took a daily pill that helped him considerably.
And today, I was running late to a doctor appointment (where I got a clean bill of health–yeah me!). As I was going out the door, Becki handed me a travel mug full of half-caff for the road.
You have probably already guessed. It was Cole’s old mug.
She unwittingly gave me the greatest gift today.
I drove all the way into town with watery eyes while my senses were full of the smell, sound, and feel of my precious boy.
I smelled Cole today.
God, I miss him so.