haunting

the haunting question of which of my sons died first has lingered steadily since the funeral a bit more than two years ago. estrangement isnae as well-defined as a funeral but, in my strictly personal heart, it carries enough of the same elements that i have allowed myself the dual grieving. gone is gone. as of the unmarked day (c.2017) that my eldest son awarded me my toxic mom honors, there wasnae much of the early relationship between us left to nurture. at youngest son's funeral i found it easier to gaze upon the 2 open caskets than the morbid obesity which seemed to hold only vague remnants of the vital, gifted child i so dearly loved or even the wiry, constructo buff man whose repertoire of cruel stereotypes defined our adult relationship. even if today should bring the eldest son of my dreams back into my life, there remains a long stretch of cruel years and tears to process and grieve. am i safe to assume that is equally true on eldest son's side of the estrangement divide? i donae feel safe assuming anything of his life, nor do i feel welcome to ask. i donae believe i have an option outside of letting the mystery be. if i am meant to know, the knowledge will become available to me at the speed of life.

the more i resist the dual grieving, the stronger it bonds. when i sing the grief therapy song, both sons move through my visualizations with increasing clarity. do i see them reaching past their adolescant and adult confusions to reach the loving bonds of their early years together? just wishing?

dunno. . . processing. . . sorting. . . grieving. . .

i miss both of my beloved sons.