Because of Brian

I often ask questions in my head when looking for answers or guidance in life. I have learned that if you let go and listen, you will receive something back from those who love and support you who are unseen but always there.

It is commonplace to simply dismiss what you hear as your mind filling in the answers that you seek. Sometimes however, if you truly still yourself, something is given that you would not have come up with on your own.

I’ve said before that I have learned to recognize it because it’s often wiser than myself and speaks without falter. There are no pauses in the “voice” unless of course I choose to interject. The answers come quickly and there is always a slight tinge of amusement in the delivery as if they enjoy watching the learning.

In this case it was marbles, the toy from eons ago. I don’t think about them. I don’t ever use them in conversation or equate them to anything in my life or memory. I was told however in trying to understand or control everything in my life and all that had been lost, that I was like a child trying to keep all of the marbles on the floor in a neat pile. That I was fervently trying to organize them by type, color and size. (If you know me at all – this is so accurate.)

It went further explaining that marbles were meant to roll, to shine in the light in their own time. They are each unique in color and vibrance and should be seen from all sides of the sphere, so they move as they do to allow their brilliance to reflect outward.

You cannot protect them from an occasional chip or getting lost under things for a time. That is the nature of the marble. You never lose them though. They will be found again in another place. Cherish them as they are. Each a thing of beauty to enjoy but never kept in pile to yourself.

Dedicated to my friend and mentor Stacy for I learned much of this with your guidance. I will forever be indebted. Rest in heaven now.

Because

Because of you, I grew.

  From youth to a woman, to a warrior. From you were the gift of my children who are the greatest loves of my life. I will forever be thankful for that.  While I no longer mourn your loss, I hold thankfulness for its place in forming me into the woman I am.

Because of you, I exist.

 Your love was unconditional. From you came a lifetime of lessons and family. I will forever hold them in my heart as most precious. Your love lives on in me as a thread woven into who I am as a mother, a sister and a daughter. I am grateful always.

Because of you, I know love I never knew possible.

 From you came love that knows no bounds – extending beyond this world and into another. Your existence changed me wholly and unequivocally for the better. You gave my life purpose.

Because of you, I know love that crossed boundaries.

From family to friendship and beyond.  You filled roles that taught me how to love bigger and laugh more. You gave of yourself to me and to those who I loved most from your birth to your death. I learned from you what selflessness was.

Because of you, I became stronger through losses.

 You showed me love at my lowest point and continued to give it asking nothing in return. You challenged me like no other and accepted me all along no matter the outcome. You touched my soul.

Because of you,

Love was given and although

seemingly taken

its gifts go on

Getting back to writing has been a nagging thought but a seemingly overwhelming task. Much like the very beginning of this road, I decided that trusting the process was the way to go and getting to it, no matter how it felt, so here we are.

Grief, child loss, loss, life change, growing older, all of these things bring with them reflection. That reflection can make you bitter or it can make you better. It can make your heart sad, or it can make your heart grateful. Sometimes, and more often than not, it does both. Driving last week, I heard the song “Better Boat” by Kenny Chesney. Not the first time but in a more meaningful way. (Probably one of those synchronicities I’ve talked about before).

In the process of trying to maneuver the waves of life, of loss, of grief in all its forms, one of the most powerful lessons is that there is little one can really control. Waves come in and they flow out. Life keeps happening. All one can do is use what you do have to “build a better boat.”

We take the lessons we learn, the friends that we have, and the love that we have been offered, and we construct a vessel to carry us through. Hopefully, the structure is strong enough to endure what comes next and pliable enough to adapt to what changes. It should be roomy enough to offer rescue when called for. We all need a lifeline now and again. If you find it lacking in any way, you get to start again. There’s no limit on improvement.

Look for your synchronicities and keep working on your boat.

” I breathe in, I breathe out
Got friends to call who let me talk about
What ain’t working, what’s still hurtin’
All the things I feel like cussing out
Now and then I let it go
Around the waves I can’t control
I’m learning how to build a better boat“

-Kenney Chesney

Mother’s Day. No holiday on the calendar seems to bring about as much ambivalence as this particular Sunday in May for the bereaved parent. While they are all difficult, there is something about this one that seems to send so many moms who have endured child loss into a tailspin.

What causes it exactly can be different for each individual, just as grief differs from person to person. The missing of the child would be enough on its own but there are also insidious, unexpected feelings of loss. Losing a child is a personal loss. It takes a lot of work to overcome the feeling that it was something, “done to you.” There is a constant grappling with the feeling of what was most precious to you was taken. Afterall, for a mother, a child for nine months was a part of you physically. We feel that forever. If a child is lost pre-birth or in infancy, there is mourning for what was never had. To lose an older child, brings with it sorrow for what you did have and the relationship and love you built over the years. Neither is enviable or the promise of motherhood.

The simple things are missed on this day as well. Cards and kisses, phone calls and lunches. They aren’t there for loss moms. The holiday goes on though and these things are witnessed and longed for while we miss our children.

This post however, I write to encourage and not to dwell on the loss, though it is significant. I believe that loss moms should be most revered on Mother’s Day. No one loves quite like they do.

For to love a child whom you cannot mother anymore physically is a love fiercer than any other. What they do on a daily basis takes superhuman strength.

You are always a mom, no matter where your child is. You will always be their mom, no matter their age or their current “residence” – be it physical or spiritual.

So, celebrate this Mother’s Day for the warrior of a mother that you are to your kids here and in spirit. They still love you too and are proud of how incredibly fierce you are.

I see you when you stand quietly looking at the glimmer of the lights on the tree, wishing it were different somehow. I remember all of the memories with you as they run through bringing pangs of joy and sadness with them.

I have watched both your love and strength grow and change as the years have passed. I have never left your side.

Look for me in all of it this season. I am there, laughing, loving and twinkling in every light.

I awoke today and heard this from my boy…he was pretty insistent to write it before any other task be done.

Merry Christmas my friends. Hold on to the love. That is your gift. You get to keep it forever.

Any parent will tell you; you never really stop thinking about your kids. It doesn’t matter how old they are, where they may live or what stage of life, they are currently in. Your tie to them is always there. Your worry for their wellbeing runs through your own being like a cord attaching you to them and is forever a part of you.

So, it’s a strange thing when one of them no longer exists in human form. When you cannot ask and get a direct answer for, “what are you doing now, today, this week?” Even if you could, you could probably not begin to conceptualize what they actually were doing.

The thing is you can ask. You can ask them anything. The truth is that the best form of communication exists between the heart and requires only the connection to know more than you ever thought possible. Words can often be misconstrued, actions misread, but the connection between souls is pure. It is timeless, it is perfect and without human error.

It requires nothing more than the silencing of your mind and opening of your heart to listen. They will answer you. Every time.

“I wish you would come back.” I say that to myself whispering it under my breath more times a day than I can count. I say it as if somehow the words might breathe you back to life again.

My mind knows better. It knows that you in your truest sense never really left but the missing of your physical presence is difficult to accept. Learning how to reach for you, to find solace in the space which divides us is by far the biggest challenge of your physically not being here.

One’s psyche immediately moves back in time to moments and memories of when you were here trying to capture every piece of your essence. At the same time, it tries to quiet itself to find the spirit which now exists and never left at all.

I hear you my boy, but I still wish that you would come back. I will probably whisper it to you forever.

The above was written early on after the loss of Brian. I was reminded of it this week when speaking to a family member about my brother who left us just under two years ago. He said that he kept waiting for him to stick his head around the corner and say, “just kidding.” That it was all a bad joke.

Coping with the physical aspect of loss is by far the most difficult challenge. It never goes away. There simply is no replacing it. It’s been my experience, that the only way to begin to deal with it is to continue the relationship. Never stop talking to them. Never “accept” that they are not here for they are, and that they will let you know. It will be different, it will not always be on queue, but it was always be filled with love. That, you get to keep.