The day after we lost Joshua my mom gave me a ring to wear with his birthstone. I wore it every day for four and half years. Last month I noticed that one of the amethyst stones was missing. A prong had got bent and broke allowing the pale purple stone to fall out. I…
I have always been a writer. It soothes my soul and helps me process emotions and connect to myself. Following the death of my son, writing became a way to connect to him. A source of healing.
Death seemingly cuts a connection. Severs it at its core. The thought of losing that connection brings me to my knees. Shakes me to my core. I am his mother. In the beginning, I constantly questioned that our bond was severed. Yet, there I was, a childless mother.
Death of a child creates a void; an empty hole longing to be filled. Filled with love and connection.
I had to fill the void. But how on earth do you create a connection to a child you never got to know? A child who never took a breath outside your body? I didn’t know what else to do, so I wrote.
I found a journal that I had bought years before. There is a quote on it that reads, “There would be no rainbow if the soul had no tears.” This would be his journal.
The thread of connection between heaven and earth.
I began writing letters to him. Telling him about my day, sharing my pain, and expressing my hopes that he knew how much he was loved. I wrote about the double rainbow on the night his heart stopped beating. Shared the story of his birth. I told him how I found out I was pregnant and how I told his Daddy. Expressing my love for him in every letter; in each word that I wrote.
Writing brought me solace and more importantly, I was able to nurture our connection. I was able to tell him things that I would have if he was alive. Healing began to occur. I began to feel less like a childless mother. Feeling more and more like a mother.
Through my grief and healing, I have learned that nothing, not even death, can sever the bond between mother and child.
I wrote to him when I found out he was going to be a big brother and when he was going to be a big brother again. I keep him included. He is a part of me. A part of my story. A part of our family. He is the big brother. Our first-born. Nothing will change that.
I am the mother of three Children.
He has two younger siblings now. They all have their own special journal containing letters from Mommy. Life is busy now. Letters are further apart than before. I try not to let guilt consume me. I am a mother of three children. Sometimes as parents, you have to give one child more attention than others.
Some days, he needs more attention. On those days I cry. I talk to him, look at his pictures and write him letters. Some days his little brother and sister need more time. On those days I remind myself, I love them all and parent them all in different ways. I write them all letters; love them all. I am connected to them all, even if you can only see two of them.
Writing letters to Parker has been a vital instrument in my healing. Through these letters, I have fostered our mother-son connection. A connection that nothing can sever, not even his death.