New Year’s Eve is always a time to reflect on the past and look forward to the new. As I look back on this year, my heart is filled with many different competing emotions. I will always remember 2011 as the year that my son Rick died. The coroner’s visit, the finality of death, and the knowledge that there is no such thing as a do-over in life are ever-present emotions cascading through my body. Car accidents happen and in just that flash; it’s all gone.
But I feel more. I feel a hologram of sorrow, grief, happiness, tears, laughter, grace, depression, despair, fits of joyousness, days of gratefulness, deep appreciation for the smallest of things, and most of all love. In big capital letters, LOVE.
Cocooned in the gentle caring of my husband and daughter, I have felt the outpouring of support from friends near and far. Most of all, I have felt Rick’s presence and the beams of radiating love that he sends my way.
Yes, I have been blessed. This terrible, terrible year, has also turned into one of my most precious. I will always look back and see the love. The grace. The beauty of people helping people. I will see the faces of my friends, as they ask, “What can I do for you”? I will hear the moms of sons silently saying, “Oh my God, that could have been my child!”, and then turning to give a smile, a kiss, or a hug to their precious baby, adolescent, or young adult.
All who knew Rick have all come away with an appreciation for life, for the smallest of small favors, gestures or smiles. I have become much more centered, soft, and patient. I am a wiser, more caring person. And, I have a deep sense of appreciation for how strong I really am! Yes, I have lost a son, but I am here and I am dealing with this. God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, and I know now, that I can handle quite a heavy load.
As I take my morning walks, down the forest road to the wide green gate, I often think of why I chose this path. I do believe that before we enter this world, we sit down with the “big guy from above” and map out our life. We decide on the lessons we want to tackle, the growth that we want to accomplish, the karma that we want to clean up. We decide all of that. It is not given to us; we take it on. We then gather those people most precious to us, those that will accompany us on the journey to Earth, and jointly we agree to become each other’s teachers and button pushers this time around. On those long morning walks, I reflect on what in the world I was thinking taking on the task of being a mother that loses a child! What lessons are mine to learn? Am I strong enough to follow this path?
After many walks and many meditations and many thoughtful discussions with my Spirit friends, I think that my lessons are two-fold. To be and to teach. I am much more in touch with my being-ness. I am not as inclined to take action, now I’m much more inclined to be something – patient, caring, compassionate, kind, or even angry. I know that life is not about doing, acquiring, having. It’s about being. That’s all we can take with us when we die. Our being, our essence, becomes the composite of all the lessons of this lifetime. That is what is important; To be.
So yes, I am grateful. I am full of appreciation for life, for life-after-life, for this awe-filled place we call home. To my friends, I say thank you, for giving me the opportunity to be more of who I was meant to be this lifetime. And to my son Rick, I bow in gratefulness. You have bestowed upon me a great blessing; you chose me to be your mom.
Thank you son, I love you. Namaste.