Friday, February 19, 2010

Frozen In Time - The Moments Before My Son's Disclosure

I fight against my mind's desire to lock these next two days away. I faced these events feeling utterly alone and now I have the support of those who share my blog. I am grateful.

We had the table set for ten. The kitchen was filled with the smell of baking biscuits which were to be the final touch for the meal we would share. My oldest son was away for the week at church camp and Justin was enjoying his time with his cousins. I had gone to the front door, gave a whistle and called the kids in for dinner. I returned to the dining table and the conversation with my family. I remember the feeling. As I reminisce of that late afternoon in August I want to hold on to that moment forever. I would love to sit in that very chair, lean back oblivious and happy. I want to feel the sun once more radiate through the window and watch how it illuminated the room. In my mind’s eye it seemed so brilliant and comfortable. I desire to hear the voices of my uncontaminated family in routine conversation and blending like a peaceful song. It was so perfect. If I could just go back and seize the moment, I would cling to it as a child with a favorite teddy in the darkness of night. The safety I felt was an illusion and fueled by my ignorance. It felt glorious. I want to freeze the frame. Just stop there at that moment. Just stop.

I was swept away in conversation so I barely noticed Justin hanging on me. He was clingy. He was using my arms to hide and barring his face in my back. I turned to look at him and was immediately drawn to his shorts. He had his hand on his private and I sarcastically asked, “Is everything ok down there?” With no consideration for his answer I then jumped into my next sarcastic query, “Dude, what’s up with your shorts? They are inside out.” Like a foolish jester amused with himself, I again didn’t wait for an answer. I stood up and patted him on the back and said, “Go wash your hands.” It is mortifying to realize that I was such a fool. My sister’s son walked in as Justin walked out. He stood 5’9” at the age of 15. He has forever been a sturdy boy, strong and thick. His physique has always matched his personality. He took his seat and began chewing his nails.

Chewing, looking, chewing.

Justin asked if they could eat in the office and I had no problem with that. He looked over at Jerry and said, “Come on.” Jerry took a moment away from his nervous nail biting to respond with a sharp, “No.”


We ate our dinner. We talked. The kids went out to play.

I am the type of mom with her ear to the wall and constant, "How ya doing?" To keep up with my reputation, I stood up from the table to go and check on Justin. I looked out the back door to see him hiding behind the shed and Jerry telling his younger brother to go away. I went outside with my firm mommy face determined to find out what was happening. Justin saw me. He threw something down and began to walk towards me. I took him to a private part of the yard and ask him what was going on. He was so forthright it struck me off guard. “We were smoking pot,” he said. I am not sure how long I stood there but I am certain my mouth dropped open as my mind tried comprehending my nine year old son smoking pot. I directed Justin to wait by the front door and let him know we would deal with this at home. I instructed him not to speak a word to Jerry. He easily complied. Knowing my nephew, I was sure he was one step ahead and all evidence near the shed was destroyed. I went inside and went through his things. I found a DVD box which clearly smelled of pot. I took a deep breath and told my sister we needed to talk. I explained to her what happened, gave her the box and had to hold her back from going out in an emotional explosion. I said I was taking Justin home to have a heart-to-heart talk and recommended she do the same with Jerry. I told her, “Drugs are a cry for help. This is an opportunity to find out what is really going on.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and said thank you.

I felt so much peace. I was angry but I seemed to be floating freely in a current which was headed in one direction. I was not sure where it was taking me but there was no way to avoid where I was going. It felt very controlled and fated. Every word and every action was orchestrated. I was a willing instrument. I am grateful to God for taking control of my words, my heart and my actions. He needed to take the reins because a lid had been blown off the bubbling crock pot of lies and deceptions. I had touched the tip of the iceberg but as the sun went down that August night the magnitude of things began to unfold...


Violetwrites said...

as a social worker and also a person who has dealt with many types of past abuse personally and through others, I relate.

I wrote the story (actually true) below and changed the names to protect the guilty.

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About Me

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I am an average mom who loves her kids. I never thought it could happen to us but it did. My son was abused. Words to live by: Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.