Today is "Bereaved Mothers Day" A day no mother wants to have a part in, and no one wants to be a member of. This is a reprint of an post from 2009, I tried to write one today, but it was too hard; this post says everything I am feeling. I would like to share it with you again.
It's cloudy and dreary in Charleston today. The temps according to my trusty Weather Bug (which keeps chirping at me) is an annoying degrees. That of course means thunderstorms later this afternoon, making the day a little dreary. Face it, scary as they are, there is nothing dreary about a thunderstorm.
Luckily Natasha has never been afraid of thunder and lightning. Tasha has never been afraid of anything. She has flown across the room, flying from bed to bed giving her mother and me symptoms of a major heart attack, also scaling stairs like they were level when she was one. In one way I am proud of her, in another I keep expecting the broken legs and arms that come with such an adventurous child. How does one keep them safe?
When my baby died, it wasn't dark and dreary. It was bright and sunny. The day had been like any other. The doctors had said she was ready to go back to Normal after her surgery.
She had fought with her brother. Whispered secrets with her sister. I remember most, she called her best friend Stephanie and they laughed about Stephanie's first day of school, new friends they would make and to meet at church on Wednesday.
Then went into the girl’s bathroom to check on a tooth that was coming out, and as I walked her upstairs Promised her it would come out soon and the tooth fairy would be here.
She stopped, turned and looked at me and called me. Then fell in my arms. I knew she was gone.
I remember confusion from the other kids, calling 911. I couldn't get through, my son begging me to let him do it. "I can do it mom, really!" he kept pleading. I was too afraid he wouldn't know what to say. A guilt I still live with. The ambulance. The Hospital. Friends. The Pastor sitting there, when they told me what I already knew. My Sharon was gone.
She has been on my mind so much lately, I don't know if it is proper to blog about this sort of
Thing. But I want to talk about how I felt and still do. I look at my Tasha and so desperately want to keep her safe from harm, but I can't. And I know this.
The Surgery was over, she was supposed to be better! Her life after spending 11 years of being sick was going to change. She was going to run and play with the other kids, she had never been able to before. We spent all day Sunday with her sister and her friend Stephanie shopping for Jeans for her because she was supposed to gain weight and be able to wear them now. She was 60 pounds at 11 years old. Life for her was just beginning. But it ended.
I am so Angry. Still I am angry. That this child was called home. I know God knows best. I know she is in a better place. By the way, when you are dealing with a grief stricken person NEVER say those things. They are not comforting when all you want is that person to be here in this place. We are a selfish people when it comes to our loved ones. All we can think of is, we will never hold this child, this man, and this women again.
I still ache today to talk to her, to have her climb in my lap, to have her fight with her brother.
I'm the little sister she would say, I am supposed to be annoying. Eric was not amused.
. Her mother is returning to school and moving far away. Part of the starting over process for her was to be able to finish school and get a career.
Although I feel my heart breaking, I must let go she must do what is best.
But loss is not something easy to take. My heart still has a huge piece left out of it, one that will never be replaced until I go home.
In the year that followed Sharon's death, my mother and father died in different states from each other, one of cancer one was murdered. My brother died of a stroke and my other brothers two boys were killed in a gun fight in Rockford, Ill city of death for kids. That was not a year to relive. Still I keep coming back to keeping them safe, where I started.
I can't keep Tasha safe. I can't even keep her mom safe, although her mom is old enough to take care of herself. But the feeling we want of making sure our little ones never get hurt, never feel pain, never ever having to go anywhere without us, How do we cope?
With God's help we cope... Natasha has shut herself in her favorite cabinet under the sink. She is going to "work" she says. She just happens to "work" at Denny's where her mom works. She "shops" at Wal Mart where her Nanny works. All people who she trust to keep her safe.
No matter what we will do our best. God already has plans and knows the future. Sharon was "safe" walking up the stairs. My Nephews were watching television in their living room. So supposedly they were "safe"
The world is a dangerous. It has always been. I remember scaring my grandmother as I used the porch railing for gymnastics. I remember climbing on the roof and jumping off at 10. My son, by the way did the same thing. We do our best. God must do the rest we supply the faith and prayers.
The sun is making a temporary appearance, peeking out from behind a cloud like it is playing hide and seek.
I see squirrels, which means Natasha will be running after them soon. Poor squirrels, no peace at all. She is coming out of the cabinet and heading for the back door. I hear her laughter as she sees the squirrels. She calls me, "Mom" the squirrels, the squirrels! And runs out the door. But wait. Do I just hear one child's laughter? No I think in the balmy Charleston day, with the sun going back behind a cloud, for a minute I heard more than one child's laughter. I think I heard the laughter of the many children who are now truly safe. With our Father. And mixed in with that laughter is Sharon's. Watching out for her niece, letting me know she is safe. and yes mom Now I can run and play with the other kids.
I love you Sharon, Please be happy. I will see you soon.