Death. The only thing 100 percent certain in this life. It engulfs every single part of your body and suffocates you just to the point where you don’t think you’ll survive, yet the day keeps moving. You walk around in a blur, thinking you’ll wake up or your in some kinda of twilight zone. The pain you feel is unimaginable and you don’t want to move another muscle, another foot, or go another day.
Then that sweet little voice rings through the silence, “mommy”, and you come back into reality. You don’t want to, you don’t want to go on, you want to drown in your sorrow and be somewhere dark, but you can’t.
You are a mom and this, this is the hardest thing you have to do, be strong and hold on in a time of death.
You try hard not to cry. You try hard to keep your head up, because YOU have heads looking up to you. You make their breakfast, you give them bubble baths, get them dressed and walk outside to play in the yard. Waves of emotions are rolling over your body and somehow you manage to crack a smile, because your daughter is laughing and smiling at you, wanting one in return back at her. For a moment, you forget.
You drive over to their grandpas house and console with the family. Friends and family coming in and out, food being brought and tears being cried, stories and memories being shared, laughter and more tears. Your daughter asks “where’s poo-poo”, and the whole house goes quiet. Your heart stops and the most unimaginable cramp in your throat suddenly appears. You want so bad to burst into tears, but you hold it in. The next words, the ones you never imagined you would say somehow fumble out. “Poo-poo went to heaven with Jesus”. She gives you a funny look because she’s only 1 and doesn’t really understand and walks away. Your lips quiver and you began to chase after her knowing she will never get to truly know the greatest man.
The kids keep you busy, they somehow make the time pass faster and a little less painful and you go about your day being the mom you are. You make their dinner, read stories and tuck them in tight. The house is a wreck so you begin to clean and get things in order for everything about to come. It’s gonna get harder. You know it. You try to prepare.
You make it to bed, comforting your husband who has been in tears, been mad, been up and down and on a rollercoaster since his dad has passed. You massage his head, it’s been raging in pain, and try to comfort him so he might get a few hours of sleep. You close your eyes, just to have your mind race with all the events this week and the ones to come. You say a sweet prayer for comfort, for healing and for sleep and finally you do slip off.
Being a mom in a time of death is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I knew I was strong, but nothing makes you as strong as a tragedy like this. I hold on to hope to keep me going. Pray to God and put one foot in front of the other. Somehow, someway another day has passed.