After the first infusion of tattoo ink, I was hooked. They are like potato chips, you can’t have just one. I was immediately planning the addition to Connor’s infinity piece. It didn’t take me long to settle on butterflies, one for each of us, with Connor’s drifting off.

Butterflies are a symbol of change, and there is no doubt that this has changed all of us. But it has surely changed me. Changed me in ways that at times are hard to explain. I used to be the Mom that was so concerned with what everyone thought of me and how I was raising my children. Were they good enough students, athletes, were they polite enough? Did they write Thank You Cards correctly and in a timely manner, were they kind to people, they weren’t bullies were they? I was so concerned about making sure my children were well received in the community. I wanted to make sure I was raising well rounded young men.

After the death of Connor my priorities have changed. I am pretty confident that I have sent Kyle (the green butterfly) out into the world as prepared as I can. He is a kind, smart and ambitious young man. He is making me proud.

I am also damn confident that Connor would have set the world on fire if he was given a chance. He was driven and loving and if I could snap my fingers and bring him back, I would in a New York Minute.

I know intellectually that isn’t an option but that doesn’t mean that every beat of my heart doesn’t yearn for him, and ache knowing that he is never coming back. So the pain last night to imprint these flying butterflies on me forever is a small price to pay. To keep the memories of Connor forever imprinted on my body as well as in my heart and in my mind. So go on little blue butterfly drifting off, lead the way, show us how it’s done and wait for your mama with open arms when she gets there. It will be a while, but I’m worth the wait I promise.

From the time I was a kid the beach has been my happy place. As a kid it was The Lakeville Lake, hours spent there, first just playing in the sand and shallow water. Then it became hours of Swim Team practice, and swimming lessons, followed by lifeguard training. I was happiest at that lake, even with all its weeds and it’s murky bottom. Then I learned to sail, it allowed me the freedom on the lake. To go only where the wind could take me. Being at the mercy of the wind, it was a wonderful thing. Peaceful, calm and quiet, no one arguing or complaining or fighting with me. Just me and the peaceful lake.

My family wasn’t much for the ocean. My father has a serious dislike for sand, compounded by my brother dropping a handful of it in the chips when we went to the ocean when he was small. To be honest he didn’t care for the lake that held my heart either.

As I got older the ocean was the place I went to relax and heal the stress in my life. It didn’t hurt I went to college on the CT coast, and just a stones throw from the ocean. Once I was married and the boys came along we camped at the beach every year. It became their favorite place to. To play in the sand, boogie board in the ocean or make sand castles and dig huge holes when they were little.

Now that my life is in disarray, and my heart is crushed, the beach is where I go to find peace. It relaxes me, the stress is gone for a while. It is just me, my kindle, the waves and the sun.

Giving me a semblance of peace at this moment. I will take what I can get and work with it.

On July 4th Mark and I were invited by a longtime friend of mine (think from grammar school on) to see James Taylor at Tanglewood. James Taylor is the Berkshire hometown musician, and Tanglewood is his home arena. Being raised in the Litchfield Hills of CT it was like going home for me.

His set list is like a walk down Memory Lane for me, Sweet Baby James, Fire and Rain, You’ve Got a Friend, Carolina in my Mind, Copperline, Mexico, Shower the People & Your Smiling Face.

They are the songs of my teenage youth, the songs I grew up to. They all have meaning to me and each of them take me to a special place. “Sweet Baby James” is the first JT album I owned on CD, and I played it to death. I always played it driving back and forth to CT with Kyle & Connor in the car to see my Mom & Dad.

When he introduced that song, we all cheered and began to sing, and inexplicably the tears started to roll. My brain went back to driving down the Mass Pike or even the backroads from MA to CT with both of them in the back seat, my sweet babies. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes singing, or being silly, as they got older often fighting with each-other but always my babies. The next song was “Fire and Rain”, the tears didn’t get much better with that one.

Sweet Baby James

Fire & Rain

With the tears running down my face Mark put his arm around me and let me cry, with JT playing and me singing (which trust me no one wants to hear). The next song up was “You’ve Got a Friend,” once it started and I really listened to the lyrics. I started to think, and the tears dried up.

You’ve Got a Friend

When you’re down and troubled

And you need some love and care

And nothing, nothing is going right

Close your eyes and think of me

And soon I will be there

To brighten up even your darkest night

You just call out my name

And you know wherever I am

I’ll come running, to see you again

Winter, spring, summer or fall

All you have to do is call

And I’ll be there

You’ve got a friend

I began to think, closing my eyes makes the memories of Connor flood back, and I can bring him back in my mind. But I also know that I can also call out to all of you. My friends that have stood by me, through this ordeal, dried my tears, held my hands while I buried my Sweet Baby and tried to come to terms with the fact that I had seen fire and rain and yet I would never see him again. James Taylor is truly the music of my soul, but you my friends, family and followers are the people that keep my heart and soul alive.

I assume those of you with television (not just streaming services like Netflix, Hulu, Roku) have seen the Lowe’s commercial where the mother walks in to the son painting his bedroom. She says “what color did you decide to paint your room?” The narrator says, “when you realize any color you want, does not really mean ANY color.”

That commercial makes me both giggle and tear up, usually simultaneously. When Connor was a Freshman he decided the nursery balloons painted on his walls needed to go. Mark and I are notoriously bad procrastinators when it comes to painting, so that color scheme had been there since Kyle was a baby.

Connor’s color choice was orange, not sherbet orange, but, Kubota Tractor ORANGE, with the ceiling painted the same color. I really think his room emitted a glow it was so bright. It surely wasn’t my color choice, but my thought process was this, it is paint, he can change it when Kubota Tractor Orange isn’t his thing, and it could be black.

It took Kilz primer over those balloons and 2 coats of that orange to cover everything. Surprisingly enough the oranges and reds don’t cover like you think they would. He was thrilled when he was done, my 88 year old father in law was less than impressed. The trend of bright paint, and the same color on the walls and ceiling completely flummoxes him! But Connor loved it and that is all that mattered to me.

By the time the middle of his Sophomore year had rolled around his room was a dark blue, with a white ceiling. Think FCTS Blue, because it is just paint, easily changed on a whim, with a weekend to spare. I wish life was like that, give me a weekend to spare and put everything back to the way it was. Unfortunately life doesn’t work like that. So I will cherish the memories of nursery balloons covered by Kubota Tractor orange paint!

Since the beginning everyone has said to me “You are so strong”, or “I couldn’t do what you are doing, Your strength amazes me.” I have been trying to figure out what strength really is? It surely isn’t the absence of tears in my case. For the first 6 months I was a perpetual faucet, I couldn’t get through an hour much less an entire day without weeping. Now I consider a day a win if I complete it without having a meltdown (a case of the sniffly tears don’t count). But a completed day without tears that cause me to hyperventilate and bawl uncontrollably. That I consider a win.

In the beginning when people asked me how I was? It always cued a river of tears, now the same question cues the answer “ok, I have good days and bad days.” Which is the absolute truth, days where I just want to stay in bed and cry all day, and days where I want to get up and tackle the world.

That doesn’t mean I don’t remember the days in the PICU and immediately following. Where I was broken, and couldn’t imagine going on. Couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to function in a world that no longer had Connor in it.

Slowly little by little tiny pieces of my heart and soul are stitching themselves back together. I will never be completely whole again. My heart will always be missing parts and it will always be broken.

I have learned to embrace this “new normal”, that doesn’t mean I will ever like it, or understand why it had to be us, why Connor. But I know there is nothing I can do to change it. I cling to the memories like a lifeboat, scan thru my pictures remembering what was happening then and recalling the happiness of the time.

Trying not to let the sorrow overwhelm me. If I were to tell you that the pictures don’t make me tear up, I would be lying, I will miss him until the day I die. Someday it might not hurt so much, but I’m not there yet…..

As I sat at the last of the whirlwind graduation parties for Connor’s friends the McCloud twins. Who I have never been able to tell apart, I know that one is just a little shorter than the other one, I now know that if they are wearing baseball caps Zacky wears his backwards and Brady never does. To me they have always been the McCloud twins, Brady and Zacky his buddies, the twins. They always came to my house as a package deal, because I wouldn’t dream of separating them. They were 2 of his pallbearers (in different color shirts) thank God. Brady in s blue dress shirt and Zacky in green, so I didn’t have to fumble through not knowing that day.

They did the unthinkable, the unimaginable for Connor and for us. What 18 year old boys could ever imagine having to carry one of their buddies to his final resting place? But they did it, for me, for him for the amazing community that we live in. Because that is the kind of children that we raised. Children that are kind and yet strong, loving yet dependable.

Amy has walked through this storm of grief with me. Both of us knowing that by the grace of god it could have been any one of us.

After most of the crowd left a group of us sat at one table chatting and reminiscing about baseball, little league, travel team ball and all the sports our boys played. Shortly the clouds opened up, luckily the tent kept us dry. But it was a storm of a different kind, unlike the emotional storm that I have endured for the last 7 months.

I will never understand why I was chosen to give up my precious son, or what the overall plan was for this. Sometimes I am in disbelief and think he is gonna walk through the door, sometimes I am angry because I know it is never gonna happen and other times I just plain sad and broken.

What I do know is that I am a different person than I was before November 6th. I am a person who doesn’t take life, love or anything for granted. I learned that the hard way. It is fleeting and needs to be savored like fine wine and chocolate.

I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would no longer be a Baseball Mom. It was my title since Kyle was in 3rd grade. To be honest Kyle played because all of his friends did, yet Connor played because he adored the game. Kyle was obsessed with anything that had a motor and wheels, while Connor’s obsession was sports. Baseball, Football and Skiing (as fast as he could go.)

They have always been 2 vastly different children, raised in the same house, by the same parents. It didn’t mean I loved them any differently or one more than the other, just that they were very different from each other. Yet they shared some things, the same temper, a love of animals, lack of patience and a shared love of picking on their mom.

Baseball Moms are a special breed. We spend our time finding gloves, and uniforms, getting water, Gatorade and snacks for games. Getting our kids to games and practices on time, even they are playing at far-flung fields that require GPS directions. We often have a houseful of teammates to feed and entertain.

In my case I was the “Team Mom”, I sat with the scorebook in my lap and a “Mary Poppins” bag of goodies at my feet. The bag contained extra pencils, snacks, an umbrella, sunscreen and bug spray. I kept score and kept the kids in line, keeping them all in the dugout and batting in order.

I always thought that I would be so glad when Connor went to Middle School and this part of my Baseball Mom life was over. But when it ended I seemed lost, I had done it for so long, it seemed odd to just sit and watch a game without having to keep track of everything and everyone.

It was the first step in learning to let go, I never expected to have to let go in this way. No parent ever does. I have learned that the unexpected is the wave that we all surf. It just so happens that my waves are hurricane force.

Tonite was the FCTS Baseball Banquet, the cafeteria full of teenage boys and their families. The tables laden with potluck foods, soda, brownies, cookies and white chocolate lollipops in the shape of baseballs.

The varsity players came carrying a huge package covered in a sheet and placed it at the front of the room. Much like the elephant in the room, it was there, and I could see it. I didn’t know what was under it, but I had a pretty good idea that it was tear invoking.

Then all the Varsity players were called to the front and my tears began. Goodness I am a human faucet, I can’t control the river of emotions that are running down my face.

Brian starts to talk about what a joy it was to coach Connor. How he loved the game, and just expected people to play it, be accountable and no excuses. How this team has faced adversity and yet they really have triumphed this year. They won their division and beat teams that Tech has normally been beaten by.

Then the sheet comes off and revealed is a gorgeous oak frame, handmade by Dakota Dean. Inside it is Connors #3 Jersey, tacked up on a blue FCTS background. Any thought I have of holding back the tears is long gone. Thank goodness for waterproof makeup, I am crying but there are no sounds. This is possibly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. This jersey should be on Connors body, but it can’t be, won’t be ever again. These boys have made me a remembrance, a frame to hold his jersey forever for me. It may just be an oak box. But it holds the #3 and that is precious to me.

At the beginning of the season I had one request for these boys, to play this season for Connor. To play hard, and fierce and dedicated. With no excuses and no bullshit. I can truly say that they did it!! Sitting and watching them play this year was the closest thing to watching Connor on that field. The field that he loved, the game that he loved. His Field of Dreams.

Connor entered FCTS, following in both Kyle and Mark’s path. He chose his shop, rose through the ranks and made his mark. As his shop teacher said to me when we were choosing the recipient for his scholarship “we need to choose someone like Connor, who knows he wants to be an electrician, since Connor did, from what? At the age of 3..?”

It wasn’t 3, more like 12 when I took a job with S Keyes Electric, Inc and he entered Middle School. He became a young man with a plan, and there was no stopping him. A plan that started out with Connor being an electrician, and a damn good one. Somewhere in that 4 years the plan tweaked a bit. His plan was to become a Lineman. First by going to Southeast Lineman Training Center in Trenton Georgia, and spending 15 weeks climbing poles and all the craziness that went with it. Then the plan tweaked again, working for Eversource in their Apprentice Lineman Program was his plan.

He pursued it with a passion, getting his name on the list, submitting his paperwork. Using every contact he had, or could find. Eversource told him that once he was 18 they would be call him and start the process. He was prepared to be part of their program once he graduated.

Plans change, something that my family knows all to well. You learn to roll with the punches and be flexible. You play the hand that was dealt to you.

In our case that hand is a bust at this time, it contains heartbreak, tears and no answers to the proverbial why? But what it does contain is memories, memories of a young man so strong, determined and driven that nothing short of his death would change that plan. Those memories keep me going, they hold me up through the hard times, and that is all I can ask.

I was told when Connor first died to try to think of all the things I would miss and grieve each and every one of them. I grieved the person that my amazing son was, the fact that somehow the shy high school student I was, gave birth to and raised the “Big Man on Campus”. The guy that all the others followed, girls followed him like the pied piper and he was the leader. Although he didn’t see it, didn’t want to be it or wasn’t cocky about it.

Connor just expected everyone to do their job. He held everyone to a standard that he was held to, he held them accountable for their actions and accepted no excuses and no crap. In that way he was the young man I raised. He knew how to work hard, play hard and have fun.

The other side of Connor was the side that most people didn’t see. The romantic side, the side that treated Jordan like the princess that she is. The side that would help me cook dinner and clean up. He made amazing Guacamole that I have yet to recreate.

The side that before he got his license enjoyed snow days so we could have chocolate chip pancakes and hot cocoa for breakfast. The side that polished his moms toes from the time he was small (probably 8 or so). He had the steadiest hand, and could even do some pretty cool nail art, flowers, butterflies and ladybugs.

The external Connor is the one that the world misses, but I miss ladybugs and chocolate chip pancakes on snow days.