Expensive Grieving Mother,
First, I’d prefer to let you know how sorry I’m for the lack of your youngster. I, too, misplaced my youngster. I do know the screaming ache, the insufferable days, the overwhelming battle, and the eager to die, too. However I additionally know the little joys, smiles, and need to reside.
When my son took his personal life 12 years in the past, I used to be paralyzed with grief. On the time, I wrote in my journal that grief felt like a cloud in my chest, that I used to be slogging by way of moist cement, and that my coronary heart was damaged so badly I didn’t know if I might get well. In my grief, I felt I used to be each lady who misplaced a toddler. Someday throughout that first yr, I wrote the next poem, and I share it with you: my love letter to you. Know that I’m with you in your grief journey.
I’m each lady who has misplaced a toddler.
I maintain your sorrow in my coronary heart till it swells and bursts by way of my mouth in wails and moans. Till it seeps by way of my eyes in a waterfall of tears.
I’m each lady who has misplaced a toddler.
I’m the pioneer lady who buried her youngster alongside the path.
I’m the refugee lady who misplaced her youngster to starvation.
I’m the lady who misplaced her youngster to homicide.
I’m the struggling mom who misplaced her youngster to sickness.
I’m the mom who misplaced her son and solely youngster to suicide.
I’m each lady who misplaced a toddler.
Expensive moms, I maintain your joyful reminiscences of your youngster in my thoughts. I maintain the yearned for embraces in my arms. I really feel the nice and cozy kisses of your youngster, younger man, younger lady on my cheek. I hear the tales, laughs, murmurs, and quiet conversations between you and your youngster in my ears.
I step ahead with those that have come earlier than me on the grief journey – my grandmother, great-grandmothers, and aunts. We battle, stumble, and fall again however maintain on collectively and are set proper. We’re right here now to assist you.
Expensive moms, till that day we’re reunited with our youngsters, their heads on our shoulders, arms embraced, mushy kisses felt – I’m each lady who has misplaced a toddler.
