This is the last picture that I took of Bub and my mom while she was still alive, and this was the closest that he would come to her. He had no problem playing on the bed before she was brought home from the hospital, and he had no problem playing on it after she was… removed from the house by the funeral home after she died. The fact that he wouldn’t come close to her (and didn’t want much of anything to do with her even on FaceTime chats when she was hospitalized, monitored by me since after the point that I mentioned in entries chronicling what she did, I severely limited their interactions for his sake) spoke volumes to everyone who saw that picture and knew the circumstances in which it was taken. For the most part, I’ve forgotten about her— what she looked like, especially what hair, what she sounded like, and bar the last six months of her life and what caused me to want to forget everything about her, what she was like. Effective tomorrow, marking the fact that she’s been gone for a year, I’m going to make it a point to actively forget as much about her as humanly possible, which is exactly what I want to do. There is no positive to “outweigh”.
Tell me that he doesn’t know how she felt about him, and that he couldn’t put the pieces together.
Just look at his face here in this picture. “He didn’t understand” my ass. He understood every bit perfectly.