Friday, July 02, 2010
Dianne and Christopher became my friends via Spark.
Christopher had cancer, and he received an Ally Cat Quilt by Krackers from me. A very small token to what he gave back in return.
Christopher left this world at 6:45 on July 1, 2010.
Dianne, Christopher's valiant Mom, and I have become quite close, as I too, have buried my son, Christon.
My son died on July 7, 1971.
Both of our children had been seriously ill for years. Dianne and I both learned to question the existence of God, and each of us became constant compainions to Fear.
Fear that our children would never get well. Fear that each test was going to bring negative results. Fear that we were ignoring our other child because of the necessary long days and nights spent at hospital with our son. Fear of financial ruin due to the immensley high medical bills.
Fear of going into grocery stores because we might contact some germ that we would carry to our sick child and the other children on the floor. Fear of people coming up to us and asking how Chris was doing.
Fear of not being able to hold back when people said stupid things like "This will all be okay" and "Pray" and "God must have His reason for making your child sick". The urge to lay into these people, to yell and shout at them "You don't know what the HELL you are talking about!" and "Don't you KNOW that I am questioning the very EXISTENCE of God??"
The Fear of not being able to hold back from physically attacking them, the doctors, the lab people. Fear of not being able to not yell at our child and say "Stop this right NOW! Get out of that damned bed and get on with LIFE!"
Fear of our own impotency and inability to protect our child.
Fear that maybe, somehow, we made our child sick. Maybe it was a sin we had committed, or perhaps this is God's punishment to us for being bad.
Fear, Fears, Fears permeating our entire existence.
All the tears of a lifetime spent, with no more to ever come again.
Fear of the quiet. Fear of not knowing how to put a life back together after having basically no life at all other than illness and hospitals.
Fear of the empty arms. Arms that will always be empty.
Pain at watching other children being healthy, playing and laughing. Anger at parents who yell at their child, or grab them harshly and be mean to them instead of trying to understand what is wrong and taking the time to listen to their child.
Children are precious gifts, and laughter is so very necessary to them and to us.
All mothers who have lost their child know that this pain never leaves us. It lives with us, day in and day out. It becomes part of us.
The only solution is to learn to make peace with the pain. Allowing it to be there, but not giving it the power to take over our entire lives.
We learn to cry softly alone, not wanting to talk to anyone about it for fear they would make some stupid comment or try to cheer us up. Sometimes the best thing for us to do is give ourselves time for grieving, no matter how many years have passed.
Eventually, my Dear Dianne, this wisdom will come to you. Take time to grieve, and take time to heal. As much time as you need.
Do not go on other peopole's schedule, for by now you have learned to write all schedules in water. You have learned to live in the "right here, right now", and you know the true importance of life.
There are many of us "Empty Arms Mothers" who walk softly along side of you. We sadly allow our tears to join yours, and solemnly nod our heads in complete understanding.
We are so very sorry you have had to join our group, for we know the entry fee all too well. Our bond is ever strong, and is unbreakable. Our love comes from the deepest part of us, and our tenderness reaches out for you.
I know I can speak for all of us when I say that we are HERE for you, at any time, in any manner. No matter the cost, the distance or the time.
We know how very important your well being is, and we place that as first priority in our lives.
Some have been able to reconcile with God, others have not. But we have all been able to reconcile with Love..........that deep DEEP love that comes from the entire being.
We know the value of truly SEEING each other, and truly being able to nuture one another.
Yes, we do go through life more quietly, and only share the story of our child with those we know we can totally trust. We hold our pain deep inside, and hold our heads up high., and not allow any tarnishing of our experience with those who have only learned to care on a shallow basis.
Somewhere, somehow, we KNOW that we raised ourselves up to our highest being. We know that we were strong, faithful, dutiful, loyal and loving. We know we did our very best. We know that we gave our smiles and laughter to brighten our child's day, and hid our tears from them becaue we did not want to cause them any angst. We truly were Better than we ever thought we could have been.
We know we LOVED. COMPLETELY, FULLY, LOVED.