Two way communication

The day before Halloween. Grayson is beside himself with anticipation.

The dogs got me up early this morning: About 6:15. There's just nothing quite like the tongue of a small dog up your nose to get you right out of bed.

I took them and one of the walkie-talkies out for a walk. The other one I turned on and lay on the pillow next to Grayson. About 6:30 the radio came to life in my pocket: "Crrrssshk. Mom. Come in mom. Over. Crrrsshk"
(Yes, he makes the Crsrrshk noise himself.)
"Good morning sunshine," I call back.
"Crsssrrrshk. Good morning. Over. Crrssrsshk"

I'm so glad we have the radios. Susan gave them to Grayson this past summer when she and Bill were visiting. We hadn't used them much at the old house, but they are very handy for the morning walk. On the first morning, Grayson was scared when he woke up alone in the apartment. This way he can get in touch with me if he wakes up and is worried about my whereabouts. They have had a very practical application. Plus they are kind of fun.

"How did you sleep, angel?"
"Crrrssshk. Good. Over. Crrrssshk"
"Good, we're just about finished with our walk. I'll see you in a few minutes. "
"Crrrrsssk. Okay. Over. See ya. Crrrssshk."

Last night I spoke with Eleanor on the phone (Hi Eleanor!)
It was good to make contact. I'm relieved to know I'm not losing family. I think it's my sense of family that suffers most in all this. I love Gray, and it hurts to lose him, but it's as much the break up of my comfortable little family and home that is the most painful. I have made a comfortable little nest in the apartment for Grayson and me and the dogs. We are establishing our routines. But without Gray, our family isn't all there. It doesn't feel complete. I feel alone.

That's a ridiculous thing to write. I am alone, of course. But it's more than just missing Gray. I miss my little family.

And I was fearful of missing the extended family, as well. I think of myself as belonging to this family, and it made me sad to think I might not belong now. But talking with Eleanor last night I am comforted that I will still be welcomed and still thought of as part of their family, even if my own is broken in two. I am grateful.

My own extended family here is grappling with what to do next, regarding Gray. They love him, and they are sad and confused and disappointed. I think they are trying to get to a point where they can see him without needing to ask "why?" ... just letting it all sink in and waiting to get used to the new Way Things Are so they can still love him without needing or expecting some kind of explanation. It takes time.

On Monday when I was so sad, I came home to the apartment and I told myself, "that's it. No more crying. No more asking why. Gray doesn't have an answer, and he's not coming back. He's made up his mind. Now you have to make up yours to just get on with it. Crying isn't helping."

Of course that littlel pep talk didn't fix everything, but it did give me something to hang on to and strive for. I have to let it be okay to get over it. Not to hang on to the sadness to prove to myself that I still love him. Not to be the drama queen. I can love Gray and miss him without being damaged by what has happened. I can go on and be okay.

Here's good news. Yesterday my mom got The Recipe. Since his daycare days, Grayson has been missing the fabulous tuna casserole the cooks at McFarlin made for lunch. I have tried a couple of tuna casserole recipes, but none of them were right. So on one of her quilting days, my mom marched down to the kitchen and asked the cooks. It's the easiest thing in the world: tuna, cooked rice, cream of mushroom soup, cheese and some buttered breadcrumbs on top. That's it. So easy, as my mom says, even I can cook it.

So I did. Last night I made it for dinner and Grayson ate it up. Sweet success. We desperately need to expand our repertoire of dinner items. A boy can only eat so many fish sticks, chicken nuggets and bowls of macaroni and cheese. So, now we can have tuna casserole! Eureka!