After the end

As Lawrence’s mother I had the extraordinary privilege of being a first-hand witness to all of the important milestones and the moments that shaped his life.

When I was pregnant, I remember laying on my back, eyes fixed on my belly, just waiting to catch his first kicks. I soothed his first cries, delighted in his first smiles, and laughed with his first laughs. I watched his first steps, heard his first words, which were “thank you” and “puppy”.

I remember his first day of kindergarten, I had arranged to have the day off of work so I could drive him to school. About 10 minutes before we were set to leave, my little man declared that he thought he should ride the bus, because he’s “gonna have to get used to it eventually”. So we waited for the bus, and I watched him climb aboard, and as soon as the bus was out of sight, got in my car and with tears in my eyes followed the bus all the way to school.

There was an Arby’s restaurant next to the school with a parking lot conveniently facing the school. I was so focused on watching Lawrence get off the bus and walk into the school that I didn’t notice the school principal approaching my car until he was at my window. (I had met him the week before at orientation, so I’m hoping he recognized me and didn’t think I was stranger danger for too long. ) The principal told me I was welcome to come into the school and peek in on him in his classroom, which of course I did.

I was there to watch all his football practices, for 3 years I got to watch them directly from the practice field and games from the sideline. The league had a shortage of dads who would volunteer, so they were pretty desperate for coaches. He thought it was really funny to call me “Coach Mom” while he was in uniform.

After a few years of football, he found his real love, basketball. I was able to watch the practices and games and watch him thrive on the court. Watching him play will always be one of the greatest pleasures of my life. When I drove him to try-outs for middle school ball, I asked him if he wanted me to go in and watch. At first he said yes, then he changed his mind, “I don’t want them to see you and think I don’t have any growth potential.” Making short jokes was one of his greatest pleasures.

When teenage attitude took over, not all of the moments were so sweet. We’d have fights like everyone else. He told me I was the worst mom ever many times. But he would always think about what he said and apologize.

This past Mother’s Day was the best Mother’s Day we ever had. He had just broken up with his girlfriend, so he was on his own. He asked me to come in his room and watch movies with him. He told me I could take his bed and he would take the couch. We took turns picking out the movies and we’d talk about them. He loved movies that really made you think. The last movie that I chose for him to watch was “12 Angry Men”. He complained at first because it was in black and white, but the plot quickly drew him in, and it led to some great conversations about prejudice and social justice.

We went on long drives that weekend, he was getting ready to take his driver’s license test so he wanted the practice. While he drove, we talked about everything and listened to music. We drove to Lakewood park, and watched the water for a while, we drove to Coe Lake in Berea, where we used to live, and we took the last picture we ever took together.

That night the conversations continued, we had an amazing heart to heart. I told him that I was so proud of him and loved him so much. He told me that he loved me too, he again apologized for all the times he told me I was the worst mom. He said that sometimes he’d lay in bed and think about the mean things he had said and he would cry, because he didn’t mean them.

We talked about how he was my best friend and I was his. That is a moment I re-live over and over in my mind.

The only moment I missed in his beautiful life was his last. It’s hard not to feel guilty that I wasn’t there, that I couldn’t protect him, or at least comfort him as he took his last breath.

The only thing that eases that guilt and pain is the knowledge that he knew, without a doubt, that I loved him, and still love him every moment of every day.