Mother's Day

Happy.

Sad.

We celebrated Mother's Day today. One day early. Early so that my son could be here, he was working close to where we live and we thought it would work out better for everyone.

I was, I must admit, filled with a bit of trepidation.

Many unspoken words lie between us, the weight of which fills the air with white noise...always a low buzz in the background.

He feels, I think, that I have let him down, not been there for him.

From sheer force of survival, and I have to believe for his ultimate good, I've had to establish boundaries. Difficult ones, heart wrenching ones, splitting my very soul in two. One of the most piercingly painful ones just happened in the last month or so. I could not, indeed would not rescue him from the very severe consequences of his decisions.

The anguish of doing so, has bowed me low, brought deep grief knowing that he does not understand, yet, strangely, there is peace or acceptance anyway that what I have done was necessary. Though of course, contrarily, there is at times tortuous doubt. You know, that parental dialogue in our heads; should I have done this or should I have done that, what if I had...etc.etc.?????

Others stepped in and did the "rescuing"...hence, I fall into the category of "the bad guy."


He came; didn't go to work because of weather conditions. He went to be with friends first, and so arrived in a condition that was, shall we say, less than optimum. He pulled a gift out of a shopping bag, unwrapped and laid it on the table.


So, there was no card, a gift, yes, but no card. No words to express the depth of the bond between us, that, in spite of everything, there exists, like a beating drum, an incessant beat of love so strong that it keeps us in the dance of relationship.

This stung; (silly you may be thinking, over no card?) sending raging feelings of despair and love lost spiraling around
and around in my head.

Sensing my internal conflict, my husband gently kept coming to me, patting me on the back or giving me a hug. Yes, he is a good man...

Words are important to me, spoken ones and written ones...I love language, the tinkle of letters on the piano of life, the music of love, of despair, of grief, of joy, of gratitude...one note tumbling after another. This is how we tell each other what lurks in the depths of our souls or bursts out happily like a dancer from cake, words that speak of care, of affirmation, of anger and fear, of hopes, of dreams, or of hurts and of griefs almost wordless in their expanse.

I crave connection with those I love and feel keenly lost in the desert, hot and thirsty for contact when that connection is severed.

Anyway, as we opened the gifts, I joked about the card I received from him, opening my hands hymn-book like and reading a message imprinted there. He got it. He is, actually, a very sensitive young man, covered with a "tough" exterior and I know he feels so very deeply too...how I ache for him...

He stands up, "Mother," he says, "come here" and he gives me a great big hug, "I love you," we whisper one to another.

I feel relief. We are not whole and our relationship is layered with complication, but there is love.

Caught in all this drama is my other child. My daughter, 8 years younger than her brother. Here there is only what we call "normal" conflict. Unscathed by all that has transpired over the years she is not... She too, is sensitive and profoundly touched by her family circumstances.

But, she is excited...Mother's day is an "event"... crafts have been carefully worked and completed at school, brought home and proudly given and happily received. Then there are the secrets with her and Daddy planning for Mommy...

I love both of my children so intensely I feel that I could burst with anguish and joy of it all. Each has their own gifts to offer the world and each has their own challenges. How we navigate through all of this has been and continues to be the most devastatingly wondrous and painful thing we have ever traversed.

And so on I travel, stepping carefully through the land mine of parenting. We are filled with awe when we avoid the explosions of life, and shocked and filled with trauma when we step on a mine and life turns black as tar.

But always, always, we have hope. Hope that over the hill and around the bend there will be brighter days.

We celebrated Mother's day today.

Happy.

Sad.

Happy.