I hear a noise from the other room and my head turns to see if it is Tony. I want to ask him, "When did you go out, where did you go and why didn't you tell me". You see, often Tony would run out and not tell me. He didn't do it to be mean or get me angry, it was just his way. He did not understand the comfort I felt in knowing these things. I felt if I knew, somehow I might be able to help if trouble ever arose. My boys introduced me to emergency rooms, car accidents, broken legs, wrists, shoulders, backs, splenectomy, concussions, stitches-lot and lots of stitches, broken ribs, fractured skulls, punctured lungs, and other numerous health issues. They could not understand why I worried, to them, these things were the price you paid for living your life to the fullest. They were daredevils and still are to an extent.
Tony had by far the most injuries. He loved his extreme sports. If it had a board, pedals or a motor, Tony wanted to participate. He would forget to call often. I wanted to treat him like the adult he was and not put my overprotective mothering skills in place. I learned from my older two boys to give some breathing room. That did not mean I was home happy and not worried. I just learned to keep it inside for a bit longer before outwardly worrying. I would give anything for those days. I would give anything to be able to give one last hug, say one last I love you. Yes, I would give anything to wonder again, when, where, why?
