Happy Birthday, Mom!

Happy Birthday to my Mother
Who taught me to be good and live from the heart
Who lived by example and comforted those in need: Not only in need of food and clothing, but in need of friendship, comfort, forgiveness and acceptance. Who was the first one to invite someone to dinner who was being shunned by our little society and the first to reach out, not just with a casserole but a hand, to those who were in pain. Who smiled through adversity and made everyone else comfortable even when she was in pain. Who tried to shelter me from those influences I didn’t quite understand and as a child resented her for – like taking away my Barbie doll and Mad magazines and not letting me watch tv; not letting me go to PG movies or stay out past dark. Who made everyday life fun as well as a learning experience: baking a cake for Washington on his birthday (with a tree and cherries on top of course!), following the make way for ducklings trail as well as the freedom trail and climbing the bunker hill monument. For simple fall days picking apples and picnicking on plaid wool blankets with a real woven wicker basket. For limiting sugar and feeding us vegetables. For all those things I completely took for granted. For creating a loving, stable home full of warmth – especially when there was a roaring fire in the fireplace (ok, that one dad gets credit for!). For all these things I am thankful. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell you so. I wish you could see how much they stayed with me now that I am trying to pass them along to my daughter. I like to believe that somehow you do see and see how she talks about her Grandma Gail when we sing the Moon Song at night or she plays with your ring hanging around my neck or hugs her stuffed bunny. I wish you could have known me as an adult and hugged me and my child goodnight. Happy Birthday. Happy Thanksgiving. It is more than a coincidence they happen together. We miss you. I thank you. I love you.

Heartbreak

My very first post on this blog was dedicated to my deep appreciation for my child and how she has graced my life with so much joy. It is that joy and love that a parent feels so deeply which can hardly be captured in words. And if that depth of feeling cannot be captured, words can hardly begin to explain the pain of losing a child. I have heard the analogy that “having a child is like having your heart running around outside your body”. We are so vulnerable as parents. From the moment we give birth there is an awesome and somewhat overwhelming feeling of giving life to this being. Each new stage of development gives way to its own stage of vigilance for a parent – from the basics of keeping them warm and fed; then they roll over and we must make sure they don’t roll off the bed; then they crawl and we plug the outets and put fragiles above their reach. But soon they are up on their feet and independently exploring the world and we serve a delicate balance of letting them find their way and providing love and guidance. It is then when your heart is literally running circles around your world and it is impossible to keep up with them. It is then when we are most vulnerable. A tragedy can take your little heart in a moment. I can only imagine how that feels: like you can hardly breathe – a dizzying sensation that struggles to make sense of how such a travesty could happen to an innocent whose whole life was before her. The pit in your chest where your heart used to be weighs far more than the emptiness it is. It is a travesty and no amount of analyzing it could ever make it better, rather would only make it worse. So we keep moving, with broken hearts and heavy minds, we remember all that was good in her short little life and tuck that into our pockets to rub like a souvenir stone while we keep moving and try to heal.