She pulled out her handprint decorated as a flower.
He proudly laid a tissue paper butterfly in my lap.
These Mother’s day gifts were made at school by little ones eagerly awaiting my admiration. They had bolted from the bus, excitedly pulled me onto the couch, and proudly handed over their creations. It was a moment I delighted in, until all too quickly I remembered,
I’m his mother too.
And there it was- the familiar dance of joy and pain. The joy I experience with them, triggers the pain of stolen moments with him.
I let myself dream for a moment of his handprint artwork, his little body on my lap, his creation hanging on the fridge.
And then like a balloon, I let that dream go.
♥
I remember the first time I put words to the weight of his loss. A “life sentence” I described it. Like a gavel had slammed down condemning me to an earthly life full of bitter and sweet. I often feel lost navigating between peace and aching, belonging and yearning, celebrating and remembering.
I’m not alone. There are so many of us and sometimes it feels good to be reminded of that.
Last month, a dear bereaved mother, Barbara Bush passed away. As I scrolled through articles on her life, this photo jumped out at me.
In this photo an 87-year-old Barbra Bush held a balloon with her deceased child Robin’s name across it. Seeing her honor her child 64 years later brought me comfort. Reading the articles felt like someone was granting me permission to remember my child too.
As she spoke of holding her daughter for the last time and witnessing, “her spirit go.” I whispered, “me too.”
As she explained her hair prematurely turning gray at the death of her child, I whispered, “me too.”
As she spoke of the agony made more bearable by her relationship with her husband, I whispered “me too.”
The same woman who experienced such a horrific loss is remembered today for her strength and family bond. The thing that broke her, ultimately made her stronger. She went on to thrive after Robin’s death and at that I make myself whisper, “me too.”
So, if you sometimes feel like the only one left remembering your child, you are not alone. This Mother’s Day, there will be many of us loving the ones we have and longing for the ones we don’t.
And I’m here to say, it’s an okay place to be.
“She’s still with us. We need her and yet we have her. We can’t touch her, and yet we can feel her. We hope she will stay in our house for a very, very long time.”
– Barbra Bush at age 87