It was the last day of school before summer break. Teachers and students waited in anticipation for the dismissal bell. Everyone waited for the moment to exchange hugs, good-byes, and high-fives. We were only minutes away from sending students off to begin their summer breaks when horrible news came. In one instant, life for one student would never be the same. A sweet mom had lost her battle against cancer, and this student didn’t know it. My heart broke. I cried … a lot. This is not how summer break was supposed to start.
Days later, I sat at The Fabulous Fox Theater, nestled hip to hip, next to a woman whose tattoos I admired. Tell me more about your tattoos. This mom joyfully told of her beautiful bright tattoos, twenty of them, if I remember correctly. She shared how it all started when she accompanied her daughter, who wanted her tattoo before going off to college. Then, she shared her daughter had died in a fatal accident in 2019 on Highway 55. My goodness … This is not supposed to happen.
For the mom who passed and left behind a daughter and family, I remember her sweet countenance. I had interpreted for her several times at parent conferences over the years. Her eyes were always filled with joy and pride for her daughters. Her love and care for her daughters worn as a badge, but now she was gone. She would no longer have the opportunity to see her daughters grow older, or be there to cheer them on and to comfort.
For the mom whose daughter died in a tragic car accident, I couldn’t imagine …
I listened to her with admiration while I marveled and thought to myself
How do you do it?
You are so strong and courageous.
Wow, you’re sitting here.
Why do I share these stories? Because these moments take my breath away and prick my mommy heart. Both situations remind me life is fragile, that we are vulnerable, and that nothing is promised in life. These moments also shape me and challenge me. It’s hard to reconcile that I am not promised to live a full life of 70, 80, or 90, or that my children could be touched by harm. Life is difficult at times. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not supposed to be this way. Sigh.Mommies reading this who may have experienced the loss of a child, I’m so deeply sorry. Sons and daughters reading this whose mommies may have gone too soon, I’m so sorry for your loss.
Grief and loss are harsh realities in our lives, and we don’t know how it will touch us or show up in our lives.
If I can be vulnerable, sometimes I catch myself holding my breath or tightening my shoulders as I visit the doctor, afraid of what results may reveal. Sometimes I feel the tension and stress when one of my children is out driving, or out a bit late, knowing dangers lurk that are seen and unseen. At the heart of it all, the realization that I have no control and that I have limitations as a mommy who can’t protect, reverse, or stop time.
I don’t mean to set such a melancholy mood, but I think it’s good to feel this. It’s good to feel the groans of humanity. It’s good to be aware and sensitive to the suffering of others.
May we be tuned to
The stories of others
The suffering of others
The grief of others
May we see outside ourselves
May we find moments to sit with
May we accept invitations to be
Be love, comfort, and a safe embrace
May we remember to live today
like there is no tomorrow
What are you feeling right this minute?
How do you process loss and suffering?
How can you live today to the fullest?
Today, I give thanks.
