He Made It Through The Rain, But Not The Storm

I was never successful at getting anyone to help me with Jeff's behavior.  His Dad refused to help me pay for testing and or counseling.  Members of my family just thought he was "cute" by acting out.  Of course, if anything wrong happened, it wasn't cute anymore; it was my fault for not making him behave, and I just had to tough it out.

I dated a guy for a while that was a counselor for juvenile delinquents.  He was appalled at Jeff's behavior.  He told me that if Jeff didn't change his ways, he would probably be counseling him at the group home where he was working when he became a teen.  He said he was the worst child he had ever seen.  Gee thanks.

A couple of years later, I remarried.  The person I married had been married previously but did not have any kids.  Honestly, one of the main reasons that I remarried was so that Jeff and Glen would have a dad.  Not their dad, but a dad.  A man.  A man that did not believe in wild kids because he had been raised in a strict environment.   It didn't seem to make any difference to Jeff; he was still awful.

As Jeff grew older, the things that he did were more advanced:  when he was in junior high, I got a call from the principal, which was nothing new, but the offense was.  Jeff was pulling the seats up on the school bus and throwing them out of the window.   Not just tossing them out, aiming them at cars that were around the bus.  Who does that?  Once he became a full-fledged teen, he was even worse.  He didn't care if he was punished; it had no effect on him what so ever.  He remained difficult throughout high school.  At least he did graduate and was never expelled.

Almost immediately after he graduated, he joined the Marines.  I was stunned.  Of all of the strict and terrible boot camps around, the Marines had the hardest and most robust.  I didn't see how he could make it through boot camp without being kicked out or without being killed by a fellow Marine for mouthing off.  Somehow, he made it.  It must have been terrible for him.  When he came home, he was a changed person.  He was a man, not a brat.  I'm not saying he was perfect, but he was polite and respectful, and we started getting along very well.  He seemed to have turned his life around, and I was grateful to the U.S.M.C. for the changes.

He stayed in Dallas for a few years and lived with my mom and brother.  He had signed up for the Marine Reserves, and his home base was Dallas.  He had some issues with my mom and brother.  They didn't like it because he had a social life.  That's the way they are.  They want you to pay them to be a prisoner in their house, no phone calls, no friends, no going out.  Jeff was only 19. He wasn't going to sit home with them.  So, they had some issues, but that is what it was over.

Jeff moved to Tennessee in 1996.  He stayed at my house.  We developed a very stable relationship.  We went places together, we talked, we made up for the lost time.  I was so grateful for the change in his personality.  Every once in a while,  he might lose his temper with somebody at work or one of his friends.  He did still have explosive anger but was able to control it to a great extent.  Someone had successfully taught him that there were consequences for his rage.

In 1998 I had enough of living with a drunk and decided that I would rather be poor than to live like we were living.  I had been waiting for Kevin, my youngest son, to graduate from high school before I made my move.  I told him years in advance that when he was done with school, I was done with his dad, and he could live with either one of us, but I wasn't sticking around as long as he had a drinking problem.  Kevin chose to stay with his dad because his dad had all the money and the house and gave Kevin whatever he wanted.  That was all right, no hard feelings.  Jeff and I moved out and transferred to a different part of town.

We were still getting along great, and it seemed that he would do just about anything for me.  He had apologized to me for being such an awful kid and making my life hell.  That meant more to me than anyone could ever know.  Forgiven.

He went through a few girlfriends over the years.  One I loved and one I hated.  For some reason, he didn't treat the beautiful girl from Canada very well.  She was willing to walk away from her entire family for him, to give up her high-paying job and move to the US:  but he was kind of mean to her, I think because she was so sweet.  When they broke up, he asked me to help him get back together with her, and I wouldn't do it because of how he treated her.  I liked her very much, and I didn't enjoy seeing him being mean to her.  Now, I regret not getting them back together because he would have been with a wonderful person when he got sick instead of the bitch from hell.

Jeff met the bitch in 2003 after he came back from active duty.  I should have known when he said he met her in a chat room trying on underwear that she was going to be wrong.  You just don't know how bad.  And I will go into detail later in my blog when 2003 comes around.  For now, just take my word for it.

Unfortunately, the bitch made the last few years of my son's life hell.  If I ever see her again, ever, I will get her back, somehow,

I bought a house in 2004.  It was a brand new house still under construction.  I used all of my savings to move in and buy that home.  We moved in on Memorial Day weekend in 2004.  Who knew that Jeff would only live to enjoy the house for a little over two years before he died?  It certainly never entered my mind.

Jeff had one end of the house, and I had the other.  He had a computer room with all of his Marine Corps stuff on the walls, and he had a TV in there.  If he were home, he would be in that room unless we watched movies on the big TV in the family room.  I cooked and shopped for groceries.  He did the trash and all of the yard work.  It worked out well.

Jeff had completed his Marine Corps gig in 2003.  He was no longer owned by them.  In January 2005, he joined the Army Reserve.  I thought it was very odd at the time, but, oh well.  It was during his weekend warrior sessions of extreme physical activity that Jeff started feeling sick.  He would continuously sleep except for hours dedicated to his job.  He was losing weight, but I thought it was because he was sleeping and not eating.  He was getting dark circles under his eyes.  Something was going on with him.

I asked Jeff what was wrong.  He said he was tired all of the time.  He said he was having problems with his digestion and bodily elimination functions.  I told him he had to go to the doctor immediately.  He said he couldn't afford it.  He didn't have health insurance.  I called a friend and got information about free health screenings and testing.  I gave Jeff the info.  He never called them.  He did not want anyone poking or prodding him.  It was March of 2006.

He had just bought a motorcycle to try and win the bitch back.  He was getting so weak it was hard for him to ride.  My son Glen came for a visit in March and commented on how bad Jeff looked.  He hadn't seen him in forever, and he noticed more than I did.  Jeff made a point not to be home much while Glen was there.  They had not always got along very well.  And Jeff spent the time he was back talking to the bitch on the phone, and then he would go to bed and sleep for 16 hours.

Jeff told me that he was doing better in April and May, although he didn't look like it.  One of the last things we did together was to go to a Jeff Foxworthy show on Memorial Day weekend.  I had free tickets, and he liked him.   He seemed okay.  He laughed and hooted and hollered with the rest of the crowd.  Honestly, looking back on it, I think he was doing it so that I would let him alone about the doctor.

In June, he had a three-day physical fitness qualification test for his Army Reserve Weekend.  There were rumors that they were getting ready to be deployed to Iraq, and the physical routines were important.  When he came home that last night, he was sick.  He was never the same after that.  He couldn't even get up off of the sofa to go to bed.  He was sound asleep at 6 pm.  I was apprehensive about him.  Something was terribly wrong with him.  There was a storm coming, and we were going to get caught up in it.  It would be life-defining for us.

#cancersucksl
#wildchild