A decade of July
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In whispered winds, a sorrow's breath,
A cherished soul embraced by death.
A heartbeat stilled, a lullaby unsung,
In the icy grip of July's cruel tongue.
Why I don't believe in Bereaved Mothers' Day
/Being a mother is just that, your state of being. It doesn't matter if you carry your child in your arms or your heart. You have a mother's heart, a beautiful one, and you should be able to express all the joys and pains of being a mother on Mother's Day. Being a bereaved mother is not something to be ashamed of.
Read MoreGrief is love with everywhere to go
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But love, as I learned over the years, was still very much a part of this season. It is alive in those of us that remain, love itself has so much more to give to those around us, to ourselves. Even amid tears, and that ache we all know well, love continues giving, unselfishly, and without reservation…
Read MoreI should be better
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I should be better at letting go. I’m not. I should scatter her ashes, dive into a wave and there, beneath the surface of the water, release her. Free her from the prison of my anger and resentment. Free her from the agony and tangible sadness that engulfs my soul, release her before it’s too late before I too fade to dust, and she’s left in a box in someone’s bottom drawer or an attic, forgotten. The child that should have been.
Read MoreReflections of a decade
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In the words of an unknown author: “Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing, but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she is but she is not all at once. She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.”
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