LOVE LOST

In a few days it will be my first-born son's 42nd birthday.  August 20th, 1968.  The wonder and awe of a first-born is incredible - and I was totally mesmerized and in love with this red-headed miracle.  I had never been in a hospital before so the actual birth was exciting. Receiving cards and flowers and gifts was fun.  Trying to figure out being a mother to a new baby was challenging but awesome.  I can remember standing over Fritz's crib and staring at him while he slept. How was it possible to create such an adorable being?  In the beginning it was hard to know what to actually CALL him since his birth certificate said FREDERICK GILBERT the Third.  Should we call him Fred or Freddy? No. What about Ricky? Gil? Nothing seemed to fit until I remembered a guy in my high school class also named Frederick who was known as Fritz - and so it was.  The name fit.
Fritz had the dubious honor of being born into the late 60s and growing up in the 70s.  It was the hippy era. Adults "needed their own space". Smoking weed was "in". Long, long straight hair and bare midriffs were the rage.  Unfortunately for my marriage I was not in - and as a matter of fact, was pretty seriously O-U-T.  Thus, my union with Fritz's Dad ended. Needing a new beginning, I ordered the newspapers from 5 cities that sounded great to me, and ended up deciding to find the way to San Jose. Runner up was Austin. I packed up the house and kids, rented a cute home across from the elementary school and moved us to California.  I can only imagine how hard it was for them. At the time I needed to be far away from my sad old life - and from my parents who had a little too much input into my decisions.  I was told by a psychologist at the time that if I was happy - then my kids would be happy.  I,for the most part, was happy.  Fritz and Jason missed their Dad but truthfully he was so busy with his law career and new life that they didn't see much of him before we moved. I did my best as a single Mom but I sure wasn't perfect.  I wonder what memories they have of San Jose.  The man I met and eventually married relocated us to Southern California - Irvine and then Coronado.
When Fritz became an adolescent his sense of independence and stubbornness caused many family dramas - staying out after curfew, leaving hateful notes, abandoning his paper route --- and eventually the turmoil erupted into an event in our kitchen with the family looking on.

That night was a turning point for Fritz and me( and for Jason.) I thought he would be better off with his Dad back in Washington. I thought I was protecting him by getting him back there. (As it turns out I should have sent the male adult in the house packing instead.) I missed Fritz so badly I physically hurt. When he came back to visit his friends the first time I was so anxious to see him but when I did he just wanted me to know how much he hated me.
I cried. I grieved. I got palpitations. I cried some more. I have been crying ever since.  I used to think that at some point Fritz would realize that although I was not perfect, I never ever stopped loving him - just as much as that day in 1968 when he was born. I try and follow his life as much as I can. He is doing well in the music business in LA.  I hear that the woman in his life is wonderful.  Over the years I hoped he would call or email me back or the best-of-all, come to see me when I am in LA visiting his brother. As I approach the big 7-0, I have to face the awful prospect of never healing the hurt between us.  It is my biggest sadness and somedays it sneaks up on me and the empty feeling is unbearable.   I wish more than anything that I could hug him tight,tell him I love him and wish him a Happy Birthday!