Today is the anniversary of the birth/death of my son Miles. He would have been seven years old today.
How is it possible that so many years have passed when the pain is still raw and fresh. How is it possible that he has not aged a day and still is my newborn baby when my other children are now nine and four. How is it possible that my brother and his partner have planted seven years worth of trees in his honor.
Miles still lives with me, and secretly I consider myself to be a mother of three and not two. I still cannot understand why people don’t miss-ask-wonder about his absence. I still wish I could touch him and see what he would look like as a two year old, five year old, seven year old.
But I can’t. And my other children will be awake soon and I must get lunches made for camp. I will try not to let them see me cry. I am sorry I could not bring him safely into this word.
E
A family of fisherman
14 years ago
One of the strongest connections I have made in recent years was with a woman 20 years my senior who lost her only son at age 2 from a cold virus gone to his heart.
ReplyDeleteWe met in Hawaii at one of my oldest friend's beach bungalow on the coast of Mokuleia, on Oahu's North Shore. Maybe it was the water, the wind, or Mt. Kaala rising up behind us as a gentle grandfather might, but I felt connected to her in ways I had not been able to connect in many months.
Inevitably as our weekend friendship bloomed, the topic of children came up. I speak often about my only daughter Clara, now 5 and over a simple dinner of Thai curry and greens from our host's garden, she told me of her loss. Suddenly her blue eyes were brimming and I felt that rope of empathy knot in my chest.
At the end of her trip, after a swim in the ocean together,on the way to a sushi dinner at the open air surfers hangout in Haleiwa she told me that her boy would have been 26 that summer. I held her hand as we walked to the restaurant. I told her she will always be a mother. We looked up at the hazy pink underbellies of the island clouds. Sunset on a mothers' bond.
Talk about fears! This is one of my biggest, carrying a child to full term and having them slip away before the world ever gets to meet them. I would be beyond devastated. You must be so strong to carry on after that. Of course, you did what you had to do for your older child and your family, but in my eyes that is so brave.
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