Over and Over Again
She didn’t need useless cliches or a string of empty words flung around her neck like a too-tight string of pearls that choked.
She didn’t need illogical logic or to hear that “everything happens for a reason” because there was no reason good enough in heaven or earth worth the pain of losing her child.
She didn’t need vile judgments or cruel accusations or raised brows implying that she clearly failed as a mother since she couldn’t keep her child alive.
She didn’t need buckets of blame and shame to drown her further, she needed precious ones who would rise up to lift her from the ashes on a stretcher of love.
She didn’t need cruelty and coldness, she needed unconditional love and support.
She needed mouths that would stay compassionately closed and hearts that would be strong enough to be broken open. Wide open. Over and over again.
She needed a pair of strong, sacred, loving arms to hold her while she shook and sobbed wildly.
She needed people who could just keep showing up– uncomfortable or not– over and over again.
She needed eyes that could see that this kind of pain is not the kind one recovers from. In an hour. A day. Or a lifetime.
She needed hands that would remember to trace the letters of her child’s name and voices that would speak his name, loudly, boldly, proudly– without needing to be reminded.
She needed feet that could walk with her– slowly, gently, without pushing or pulling, graciously following her lead– until she could see in color again.
She needed ears that could listen to the sound of her own heart breaking–
Over and over and over again.
. . .
photo credit: Daniel Merritt
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Let every loss mom know she is the mother of all mothers.