Jon’s mum writes a blog about him leaving home to live in the South of England

He’s Leaving Home

I stare at the empty room, the bed stripped bare. Dirty sheets and the fleecy protector I brought to insulate him from the cold, all lying on the floor.

He’s gone.

Watching him reverse the white removal van up the drive, grinning, beginning a new adventure, I was proud, remembering the physically wrecked and psychologically damaged Jon I met at the airport just over a year ago on his release from prison. Starved and deluded after days in transit.

Over the months he’s metamorphed, come out of his cell, learned to socialise again. Made me proud.

But hugging him goodbye I was overwhelmed with sadness. I cried. Tears no longer containable. Not just for myself but for all mothers who’ve suffered separation. Felt a part of themselves torn away. Reverberating in my head were the horrors the years of incarceration had brought. I held him tight. I felt afraid. Fearful for the future.
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you again,” I said kissing his cheek.
“It won’t. I’ll be fine. All that’s over with,” he said. “I’m on the brink of a successful life. Be glad for me.”

The tears changed to relief. Relief that he’s got to a point where he can take off on his own and start his life over. Happy even, seeing the optimism in his eyes.

But the sadly beautiful Beatles song She’s Leaving Home sings in my brain.

I pick up the sheets. Place them in the washing machine. Turn the dial to the hottest wash, and watch as the circling motion of the drum removes all traces of the past.


Anonymous said...

wow! this is really moving - glad to see that your pen has lost none of it's magic!!

Sue O. (aka Joannie, SS) said...

No kidding! Any chance you'll pick it up again with some regularity?? I once again felt such an appreciation this morning, transcribing Brandon's replies to blog comments, for all the time you and Derick kept up Shaun's blog. Man, I was typing for almost two hours. And in a scrawled handwritten portion of Bran's one letter, he asked where I was, because I missed his weekly phone call last week. I felt a stab-those separation issues never go away no matter what the circumstances or how old our children are.

Anonymous said...

beautiful writing Barbara

Cat Eyes x

Anonymous said...

Lovely post mum,
You've got the house to ourself now though finally! Throw a party.
lot of love,
Karen xx

Anonymous said...

Please start your blog again. Your writing touched me deeply.

Anonymous said...

Hope this means you are back to blogging. Kath

Anonymous said...

I like your mom. Her words are beautiful. She loves you very much.

Anonymous said...

Come on Barb you've got your house back, why are you complaining?