The last few days of waiting to see Nick again seemed endless. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him, to hug him, kiss him, feel him, smell him. He was the cub I had lost somewhere in the jungle, and I was desperate to find him. Either because of the way our life together had begun, or because he had flaws I sensed more than saw, or perhaps simply because we had a special bond and were very similar in some ways, I always had a visceral connection to Nicky. It was as though he was a part of me, and every time he was removed from me, it was painful. I never lost that bond to him, it never dimmed over the years, but only strengthened. I have a similar bond to my other children, and am happiest when I am near them, but as they are healthier, I am better able to let go, for a short time at least, when I have to. With Nick, it was always harder for me.
I wrote him this letter in his last days at the wilderness program, and found it recently among his papers.
Tues 13 Oct 92
Sweet darling Nicky,
The words tumble all over my head, my heart, my tongue … I am dying to see you!!! A thousand million bzillion times I’ve thought all kinds of thoughts and messages, and silly things to you, since you’ve been gone. I’ve thought of keeping a journal … of keeping count of how many times people say they miss you (the numbers got too high for me to count them). I kept wanting to reach out my heart to yours, and finally just decided to think of you in silence. This imposed silence between us has been near impossible, like a caged lioness I have paced this house at incredible hours, endlessly, aching, prowling, missing you, with you lodged in my heart and mind, like a door that wouldn’t close, no way to shut you from my mind for a single moment. No man will ever know the strange but powerful bond one has with one’s children. It was an ache for you, a longing, a need to see your face, to touch and hold you and know that you were all right. (I literally feel sick if I am away from Zara or Maxx sometimes. There is a need to check them out, see that they are safe, know that they are nearby.) And you are still tied to my heart just as they are, an unseverable bond which, thank God, you will never feel as I do—because you must grow and have your own life, but it must take a long, long time for those bonds to grow thinner and more reasonable with one’s children. I love you. I love you so much. And oh how I have missed you!!!!! I have been in your room a thousand times a day, the straightening of the rug, or a lamp, or a cushion has become all important, the exact positioning of your magazines became crucial, as though you would read them at any moment.
I will never exactly know what you went through, the ache in your soul, the fear, the excruciating process of growing, of changing, of learning things that are painful for us all. We all have our demons to wrestle with, and other people never quite know how hard it is. I think I know. I want to, I will try with all my heart, but if I miss it sometimes, if I fail to understand, if I don’t quite get it, please, please, tell me, show me as best you can, and forgive me if I turn out to be stupid. I’ll really try not to. And if there are things I need to know, in order to make our relationship work better, tell me that too. I’ll try, Nicky, I really will. I promise. It is a growing process for us all.
You have done the hardest, bravest thing in the last 3½ weeks—24 days. Want to know how many hours or seconds? I’m sure I could count them. But seriously, Sweetheart, you have. As little as I know of it—one thinks one knows, but one doesn’t if one isn’t there. How can I possibly be fair and imagine, while I lie in a comfortable bed, what it must be like to be on survival conditions in the wilderness, not only fighting for a crumb of food, or some warmth—but trying to readjust your whole notion of emotional survival. I am in awe of what you must have faced, emotionally even more than physically, Nicky. And I am so proud of what you did there.
You’ll never know the strength and pain it took to send you there, and all I can tell you is that the only thing that would lead me to send you there was my own desperation. I knew all the signs that you were on a disastrous course, and had no idea how to stop you. It’s like watching someone drown, you would throw a piano bench at them if you had to, to save them … my only fear was that the cure would be worse than the disease, and if the choice was right, then we have all been blessed with good fortune. I can’t claim any great wisdom here. I was clutching at what seemed right-est at the time, but it terrified me.
As I said to Dad, if it turns out all right, sending you there will be the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and you!! If anything goes wrong, I’ll never forgive myself. I did a lot of agonizing, and I think the worst of it was the silence. We had no word at all for the first ten days, and my highly paid imagination went wild with ghastly scenarios that would have made Stephen King pale. When left to my own devices, I can come up with some real lulus!!! Thank God that you’re okay, and that you feel it was worth it.
I know that the reentry must he hard for you. You must have done so much thinking, so much taking stock of yourself, and your life, and those around you … my shrink reminded me once a long time ago, that although I had worked hard and gone a long way, the others in my life hadn’t gone anywhere. She (the shrink was a woman), reminded me not to expect too much of those around me. They hadn’t changed. I had. That’s kind of a shock sometimes. Also you are so newborn into your life, you have come so far, the rest of us must seem simpleminded, and dwarfed by your accomplishments. Some will be impressed, some won’t know, some won’t care, some won’t be impressed, and some will expect you to do more. That’s got to be frustrating. Try to be patient. Pat yourself on the back constantly for what you did, and keep on trucking up the mountain. You will find, Sweetheart, as one does in life, that one is never completely “there,” just when you figure the work’s all done and you can sit on your ass for a while, life provides a new challenge. Most of them are a pain in the ass, some are worthwhile, but that’s the way it is. You’ve got to meet the challenges and solve the problems. You have found some wonderful tools within yourself to do that. Keep using them, keep doing it, keep going!!! You’re really on the right track now, and we recognize and acknowledge that 100%.
I know that going to a somewhat restrictive interim school is disappointing, but it’s also part of real life. We don’t make the rules, you, or Dad, or I. We know where you are and what you’ve done. But you have to take your steps in the world now. And you will. This place sounded pretty reasonable. If you behave well, and keep your work up, you get the privileges and freedoms. If not, we’re not talking San Quentin here. I absolutely could not have lived with one of the schools, which fortunately you do not need. Please keep it that way. I absolutely couldn’t stand you ever being in a school like that, i.e. the punitive ones. (Not like this one. This one is not like that—it’s nice.) And I truly believe that this is a small step to growth and freedom. But it’s a safety net too. It would be a shame to blow all the beautiful work you’ve done on a bad day, or in a weak moment.
I don’t think this is so bad, and you’ll tell me if I’m wrong. But I get the feeling it will be pretty mellow. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it was bad. Think of it as an interesting piece of your life, a part of this new growth, it’s a bridge from one good spot to the next one, and part of the trip. It will help you get where you want to go. And the better you work with it, the faster you’ll get there. I think one day you will look back at all this and realize how lucky you were to learn so much so early. Many, many people screw up their entire lives, or a huge part of it. Many don’t figure out what you have until they’re a lot older. This vision, this change, this learning process, is a real gift, from the people who helped you make the realizations you made, but also from yourself—you’re doing this for you, Nick. And I can’t tell you often enough how proud I am of you, and so is Dad.
I don’t see this new school as some kind of punitive action, and want you to know that. I don’t think it is. I think it is a stepping stone to what you want in life: freedom, home, good values, a good life, and also a good school. I have to tell you, I would like you to get your shit together,
please. I’ve about had it with boarding schools. I have never liked them. And I never will. I would like you at home, making chili in my kitchen, and being reminded regularly to clean up your room. The thrill of your presence is one I would love to have here no end, and so would everyone else. All we want, all of us, me, Dad, the little kids, is to have you reach a point where your life is together enough to come home. I know you think you’re there but the schools naturally don’t yet. That’s only fair. They can’t see inside your head. They don’t know how clean it is there. If they could plug you into a special light and have your nose turn green, it would be a lot simpler. But this way, they need some time, some proof, some grades, some reasonable behavior. It really does make sense, and you’re mature enough to know that.
Also, to have you at home, even faintly wobbly, would be scary for you and for us, so maybe this worked out right again for a while. It’s going to take time for your friends, and the world at large, to understand that this is a new Nick we’re dealing with. Some of them are going to relate to the old Nick and it puts a huge burden on you to have to prove that constantly. It may be very comfortable for you for a while at the school. Things work out right usually, and are for the best. If getting kicked out of the last school catapulted you into a place physically and emotionally where, as you put it, “your life could be saved,” then maybe that brief encounter with the last school was the best thing that ever happened. (And if you want boarding school later on, you can, I’d just love to have you home, but it’s up to you.)
I’m going to bore you with one more small piece of philosophy. A saying from my church: “Divine Love always has met, and always will meet every human need.” The key words for me in that have always been “always,” “every,” and “human.” It doesn’t say it’ll meet some of your needs sometimes. It says all your needs, every need, always … and it says “human” not lofty, not spiritual, not religious. Divine Love always has met, and always will meet, every human need. I’ve found it very comforting at times, maybe you will too.
The only important thing in all this is how much we love you. The rest is poopcakes. Sometimes life is poopcakes. But seriously, that’s the great part, we love you … oh how we love you!!!
And hopefully, though at fourteen maybe it’s too much to ask, but you’ve aged in these last three weeks, and then some—but part of growing up or being grown-up, is realizing that all things are passing, nothing difficult or unpleasant lasts forever. I hope you like the new school, find it unorthodox but fun, think it’s a gas to be studying with only forty kids, sitting under a tree, or whatever. They go on some great ski trips, and a fabulous foreign spring vacation every year. I’m hoping you love this, maybe not like the wilderness program, but as a valuable time in your life. (It’s not the giant challenge the wilderness program was. It’s just rolling along like real life.) I hope you like it, and I hope that it’s fun, but if it turns out to be dull, or boring, or tedious, or even irritating at times, try to keep it in perspective. This is not for the rest of your life, or even the rest of high school. It’s as long as it needs to be and no longer. Grow from it, learn from it, use it for you. But don’t get yourself worked up. Think of it as a cruise; you’ll reach your destination soon, so relax. No school, no place, no person, nothing is perfect. As Alex Haley used to say, “Find the good and praise it!” (The food has to be better than it was where you are.) And believe me, the hardships in my life have made me appreciate every comfort, every job, every moment of health, every beautiful, bright-eyed child or happy moment. You’ll appreciate them all more now because of what you learned where you are.
And know with every ounce of you how much I do recognize what you did there. Nobody is saying that you didn’t accomplish great things … but life is a mountain range, it is not just one mountain … like the colored belts in karate … you’ve reached one of those terrific high-middle colors, but the black is yet to be won … you’re on your way there.
I love you, Sweetheart. I’ll go to bed, and when I wake up, it’ll be only a few more hours till I see you. A million times a day I have tried to imagine what you were doing, sleeping, eating, walking, thinking … that night you were awake most or all of the night. I felt you in my heart all night. I hope you’re sleeping now. It must be exciting and scary to be leaving there and coming back.
I am tired of living by other people’s rules for you, and for us. Learn some good rules of your own, so we can all be free again, my love. Life is a growing process, and you have grown so much … sweet little tree that I love, may God always love and protect you, as I know He will, and may you always know how much I love you.
With all my heart and soul, sweet Nick … with all my love,
Your Mommy
P.S. I loved your phone call and all the wonderful things you said about missing and loving us!!! I love you!!! M.
And as I sat, missing him, waiting for him, he wrote in his journal. He wrote these entries while he was at the wilderness program, in a little notebook he carried everywhere with him, and which I found when I went through his journals after we’d lost him (he was fourteen years old when he wrote this.)
I have two identities. Essentially, one is good, one is bad. Right now, all I want is to decide which one I want to be, and be it. There’s even a third identity there: the impatient one who wants me to decide.
First identity: I want to go home to my family, be good, be loving, and be loved. I know I am capable of doing it, if I decide I really want to. I believe that I can.
Second identity: I want to get sent to some school, and have my money and stuff and leave. Party for the rest of my life, never look back, and die before I turn twenty-five. But at least I’ll have had fun.
My Mission:
I want to be able to change other people’s lives and be honest, trustworthy, and caring. All I want to accomplish, I want to do it on my own.
When it comes down to it, the main thing that could screw up my mission is me! No matter what the distraction, I’m the one who let myself he distracted.
Who I’m going to be:
I want to be strong. I’m practicing that now. I don’t want to live in my father’s shadow. I want to be me. I want to be honest, to not only know right from wrong, but to do right. I want to show my true feelings of love and caring to my family, and I want to be a part of them. I don’t want to be living a facade. I want people to see the new, real me, I don’t want to hide him anymore. I want people to know they can believe in me and trust me, so I have to be less mercurial. I want to be good. I want to be Nick.
I really don’t like hurting people. If I inadvertently do, it’s always followed by huge tidal waves of guilt. And even if by chance it’s on purpose, it always makes me feel awful, so I do it as little as I can.
What I want is to be looked upon as a trustworthy and responsible person. I want to be happy with myself and to have others be happy with me. I want to know I completed something challenging and have that to back up my word that I have changed. I no longer want to be the person I was. I was unhappy and couldn’t believe my own word anymore. I just want happiness, and respect from myself and others, after I finish what I start.
I have irrepressible feelings about my mother. I love her so much it hurts. I tell her but I don’t know if she knows it for real. If I hurt her, the guilt I feel hurts me five times worse afterwards. I hate it. I don’t know how to show or tell her how I feel. When I tell her, it feels really good that I’d told her, but then if I do something that inadvertently or even purposely hurts her, I feel like I’ve disproved myself. My love for her is unconditional, as hers is for me, but I really don’t know if she knows. I hope she does. Hopefully, this program will give me the courage to tell her, and to be able to hold my word.
I see a tired confused boy
He’s angry, but not too angry.
He’s sad … sort of.
He’s hurting … I think.
He loves me … I hope.
He needs me … but c
an’t or won’t admit it.
He doesn’t understand me … maybe I don’t understand him.
He tries to show me how he feels, I see him struggling … but it
just comes out wrong.
I see a boy who has seen too much.
But like I said, he’s still a boy.
If I were to die today, I wouldn’t exactly be sad. I would be more disappointed. I am doing this program to try and turn my life around, and I have my friends and family supporting me. This is the final and hardest step in the ladder to a normal and decent life. If I died right in the middle of it, it would be a disappointment. Of course I would be sad that I never said good-bye to my family, and tell them that I love them, or had a chance to tell my friends how I truly felt about them, but disappointment, I think this is the prevailing emotion.
His Bright Light Page 10