mrs. b.

Yesterday was gray and cloudy and in the dark hours of the early morning, it rained.. hard...the cool hand of winter still holding on by its fingertips as spring fights to bud its beauty of renewal. The past couple of days I’ve thought of many things. Whether I might lose my hyacinths from the cold snap, whether my husband is working too much, too soon, and a lot about a lady I never knew. Just days ago, a mom from my child’s school passed away. And yesterday, they buried her. Her son is in class with my daughter...a beautiful boy with friendly eyes, who loves dinosaurs. His mom’s obit read of someone who had accomplished much, shared a lot of love but was far too young to have left this world. We had some things in common, she and I..our age, having had the good fortune to become moms later in life, and more than likely, simpatico in the culture shock from having moved to a small town from the big city.

I think all us gals, whether we know each other or not, are connected in sisterhood by many things- our strength, our smarts, our leadership, a history of oppression, a lineage of great ladies who’ve helped us do and be who we are today and a wide open tomorrow. But the thread that truly, deeply ties us all together no matter what color we are, or on what continent we live, what rung of the economic ladder we steady ourselves upon, is our role as mother. The love for our babies is an unsaid, visceral bind that permeates every layer of our soul, defines our lives and imprints upon our hearts like no other. We are in the club. Sure..life can be a wonderfully fulfilling journey without children, but once you feel that thump against your ribs, you are never the same. You can never go back. And hopefully, you never want to.

My mind was heavy last night as my thoughts kept making their way back to her. To all those she loved. To all those that grieve. I shudder at the profound sadness of saying an early goodbye. I wonder why my soul mate was able to return and his was not. I lose my breath a little when I think of her babies and how life will never be what it was before. But I also think of the simple, wondrous joy she felt while listening to the music of their giggles, watching the sun on their face while they swung toward the sky..the gifts that she gave and the ones she received in the short, magical years of being a mommy. There is a light mom’s leave behind to show their children the way. an unspoken love that’s tucked inside their hearts to carry them through the hard times and inspire them in the good, while they travel through life’s mystical, sometimes painful, often challenging but always beautiful journey. I think of the comfort he’ll find when he sees her in their eyes and hears her in their laughter.

I believe that we come around again..that our life force is connected with those we love lifetime after lifetime...the warp and weft of human existence. Last night, while hearing the rumble of the thunder, my smallest one made her way into the black of my bedroom. Her soft voice, fearful, on the verge of tears, “I want Mama”. I whispered to her through the darkness, telling her I was there. She crawled into the bed, shaking from the sounds of the storm. I buried my nose into her soft curls that smelled of lavender and play-doh. With one baby at my back and the other spooned in my arms, I felt complete. I felt appreciative. I felt like I would never let go and I thought of Mrs. B., the lady I never met.