This day will take more strength than I thought, sweet boy. I pray it doesn’t take more than I have.
Today is Mother’s Day and you aren’t here. Thankfully, your brothers and Grandma are, so we will celebrate.
There is now a split in my Mother’s Day. I will celebrate with two children while grieving one. It is an impossible situation yet somehow, I must persevere.
I am no less a mother.
Sweet boy, one of the most challenging parts of grieving you is learning to hold the both / ands.
Grief and gratitude.
Joy and sorrow.
Hope and despair.
Comfort and suffering.
Today is surviving them all simultaneously. It is smiling for what remains and crying for what is gone. Often at the same time.
I cried harder this morning than I have in a few days. I was able to wait until the house was quiet. I am not sure if that means I am getting stronger or learning to carry grief better. Perhaps it is both.
Over the last ten weeks, I have tried untangling the both / ands of loss. I am beginning to realize it is impossible. So now I sit with them. I accept them. I will, eventually, learn to understand their contradictions and, rather than wrestle with them, relent.
Do you remember the song you loved that went…
Do you like lasagna? Yes I do! Do you like popsicles? Yes I do! Do you like lasagna popsicles? No I don’t!
That is what both / ands are, sweet boy. Two things that don’t go together. Except I don’t have a choice whether or not I like them. It just is.
Mother’s Day is all about celebrating mothers. But to mothers, it is about the children who made us moms.
Thank you, sweet boy, for letting me be your mom for 24 glorious years. I am both destroyed and exceedingly grateful for that time.
Being your mom was — is — my highest honor.
