Tuesday, October 20, 2009

A Time to Be Born, A Time to Die

When time feels stolen, I remember...
... my mother-in-law who loved me like her own. Who held my pregnant belly with expectation, and watched for movements of the life that was to come. She cried when I cried and celebrated when I celebrated. She was elegant. Graceful. Poised. She linked arms with my own mother and like sisters, they shared stories and had tea and did what friends do...

Then she was gone. We miss you Mom - 10/20/2008

I didn't like watching my husband hurt. In fact, I felt more like I was soothing the broken heart of the boy inside him. The man was "strong". But that boy was broken. Sometimes I think he is still trying to find his bearings in a world without his mom.

“The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her.”

When love is multiplied, we celebrate...
... she pitter patters along the ground, noises forming almost words and giggles that chase the ants and her shadow. For this child who grips my shoulders with glee as the sun rises, and who has a fist grip on a cluster of strings that go straight to my heart. She is joy. Life. Discovery.

And on Thursday, she will be one year old.

"It was when I had my first child that I understood how much my mother loved me."


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