sweet mother's day 2013

 Another mother's day.  this is the 6th since you died.  I have sweet memories of the past mother's days.  I remember the one when you were little and my sister Marty and her daughter Kimmy were visiting us down in Newark.  Marty and I were sound asleep in my room and all of a sudden the bedroom door burst open and in you and Kimmy came--think you were around 12ish?  Kimmy was little...and on the stereo in the living room was blasting the 1812 overture...LOUD!!! and in you both came carrying a tray that had a kitchen towel on it, with a rose in a vase from our garden and a bowl of cement cereal or was it soup with crackers--anyways, it was cement...and you also made us a rolled up peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  I think there was chocolate milk too....
You guys came over to us--said, "Sit up!" You each threw another towel across our chest and set the tray on our lap and said, "Happy Mother's Day!" and left the room....oh yeah, you took a picture of us that Marty has a copy of--it is bad...wow.  We just looked at each other after you left the room and laughed right out loud!  What kids!!

Here I am now, and you are gone to heaven now for 5 1/2 years.  I have learned so much in this time.  I have met so many other moms who too, have lost a child or sometimes more than one.  I have entered a group of the most precious people who have sent their most precious ahead to heaven and continue to stand up each day and keep walking forward.  Some of us  have other children, but the one we sent is not to ever be replaced...each was unique and precious to us.

Some have lost children in the most horrendous ways-by taking their own lives, or being killed by someone or in a car accident or a rogue wave...or death from a dreaded disease way too young, or even in midlife.  I got an email today from a dear woman who is 85 who lost her dear daughter to cancer at 55.  She still grieves deeply.  Each of us has had to take that first step into this never known land of loss of our dear one.

I have learned so much from each of you--and the ones who don't read this blog.  I feel your presence on most every day, a silent holding of hands as we continue one.  Sometimes when I think I can't take another step, someone corresponds, or writes something to touch and encourage.

I miss you sweet Sarah.  I thought by now, you would have children of your own and I would be learning how to do grandmothering...not so.  I have been given the gift of older grandchildren and children when marrying Rick-the most precious gift given to me-other than you--in my life.  He came along as a gift from God just 54 days after you died and I believe somehow you influenced God to send him to me.  Don't know how that happens, but he is so precious.  From him being in my life, I now have the privilege to walk alongside my new kids and grandkids and learn more about loving than I have ever known.  You would have loved having them in your life.  I wish you could have experienced this with me.  

There isn't a day I don't think about you-where you are, what you are doing...what a challenge to my belief system.  I ponder heaven and what is next.  I no longer am afraid of death at all.  The transition to the next is ahead and I don't know how long I have here, but want to make the most of the moments.  

I sit here with a glass of Merlot, my choice of helping the pain of loss...all these years.  It is a sweet taste of grief.  The crushing of grapes along with the fermentation to make this sweet beverage.  I even ponder that you and Christopher were married at a vineyard.  I can still see you in your wedding dress walking though the vineyards--and ponder even that.  Seems like I sense you near when I toast to your life.  You are my dearest.  I miss you more than words can ever say.  

I celebrate the blessed gift of being called to be your mom today-a gift many never get to even do.  I am thankful today, not crushed.  I celebrate all the women today who also have lost and lift a toast to you my fellow companions of this journey.  I sense your closeness in spirit today.  

I also celebrate my dear mom--somehow I know you and Sarah are hugging each other today--with the other women in our families who have gone first.  Such a mystery...such a mystery.

just a woman grateful today.