An intimate look into the Mother’s Day without a child.
When the sun comes up and the rest of the house is still, I will slip away. I will make the quarter mile trip that will seem like it takes an hour. Two turns will bring me around to where I will park under the reaching, shady branches of a huge pine tree.
Sitting in the driver’s seat with the air conditioning caressing my face, a tear will slip down my cheek. My hand will turn off the ignition without my noticing. My other hand will open the door, but my foot will not instinctively reach for the ground. I have to force it to move off of the mat.
Standing beside the truck, I realize I have cut flowers in my hand, but I won’t remember taking them off of the passenger seat. From where I stand, I can see the only pink marble which graces the hill. It takes effort to pull myself up to it.
Although there will only be 45 seconds pass as I gaze at the angel engraved on the marble, a soft pink mottled with grey and black speckles, the time will crawl into what seems to be hours. Reflex will have me kneel beside the stone to wipe away stray leaves, pine needles and dried petals. A tear will splash on the back of my hand before I notice I am audibly crying.
I will turn the vase upright. There is a pair of scissors in my pocket. How did those get there? fleets across my mind. I will place the cut stems onto the cellophane which swaddled the flowers. My own voice, faint and quavering, registers in my ears. “I wish you could have stayed. Your sister would love to be playing with you, and your brother’s hair is the exact color of yours. Daddy had your picture on his visor, and he always knew you are watching over him until he went to be with you.”
The flowers smell sweet, and the petals are so fragile. “I miss you, my tiniest angel. You have been gone for more than six years, but it seems like only yesterday I held you in my arms. Just like it says here, you were our light in our darkest hour. I will always love you.”
Standing once again, I see the flowers so stark against the cold of the stone. I blow a kiss and wander, eyes closed tight against the tears, back to the truck. Before I can focus again, I am back in the driveway, head resting on the steering wheel. Would that I could wipe away the pain with the tears.
~~~~~~~~~~
Happy Mother’s Day to all those who are without their children today. May you find an inner peace.
Grant Helms
/ May 13, 2012Happy Mothers Day Red. Through the pain, I pray that you find relief. Enjoy the children that are still here, and give her hugs to the others. Hope to see you after while. God Bless You, Grant
Red
/ May 13, 2012I always do, and thank you. And it is still up for debate. Red.
Bearman
/ May 13, 2012Staring at this screen for the last 5 minutes wishing I knew what to say. So sorry.
Bearman recently posted..Attachment Parenting Editorial Cartoon
Red
/ May 13, 2012Rejoice I got my 16 days with her.
Raymond Alexander Kukkee
/ May 13, 2012There is no greater pain than the loss of a precious child. An extra special Mother’s Day to you, Red. (((HUGS))) ~R
Raymond Alexander Kukkee recently posted..The Intruder: What’s This?
Red
/ May 13, 2012Thank you, Ray. It will be.
Androgoth
/ May 13, 2012Like Bearman I too have no words that can ease the heartache of losing such a sweet and innocent child, it is so unfair my great friend.
I wish I had the words to express how sad I feel, I guess that only a cuddle can show the sincerity of how I truly feel for your loss, and so a virtual one is all I have but I am certainly thinking about you this evening Red.
And I know that with all of your children that this day is a very special one and you deserve such a wonderful day Red.
Androgoth XXx
Angela Young
/ May 14, 2012How poignant! You have said a lot of difficult goodbyes in your life. Thank you for sharing with us.
Angela Young recently posted..Um, “Happy” Mother’s Day–Part II
Red
/ May 14, 2012I have, but I found out a long time ago to share them means I do not have to carry the burden alone. It is a large part of my healing process.
valentinelogar
/ May 14, 2012I knew this morning today would hold some bitterness. I can only say that like I every day I hope it held some sweet as well.
Red
/ May 14, 2012It did, and it did. We will speak of it later.
Barb
/ May 14, 2012All the questions. Wondering why. Could it have been avoided? Back to wondering why. The dull ache doesn’t go away. I’m so sorry,Red.
Barb recently posted..Where Is the CookBook?
Red
/ May 14, 2012Oh, Barb. This was something which was to happen. All the intervention in the known world would not have, and indeed could not, have changed it. I learned a lot from those 16 days. One day, I will share it with you.
Binky
/ May 14, 2012That is so very sad, and must have been one of the most difficult things you had to go through. Life is so fleeting sometimes, and so unfair.
Binky recently posted..Full Brain
Red
/ May 14, 2012It is the hardest battle I ever fought. I wish it on no one. In the end, it taught me precisely how valuable and fragile life truly is. xxx
Deb
/ May 15, 2012There is no great pain that the loss of a child, Red. My heart goes out to you. And to all the other parents that are without their children.
Peace always be with you, my fine friend!
Love and Hugs xx
Deb recently posted..Stormy Sunset
Red
/ May 15, 2012thank you for your kind words, Deb. Mine does, too. {HUGZ} Red. xxx