Another Mother’s day has come and gone. It is always tough to understand emotions that become so present and prominent in one specific moment. Those moments have me realize that I’m just pieces of who I use to be. Fighting to keep those parts around, for myself and those around me. Living in ones tangled state of mind.

 

 

No matter how I feel on one specific day, I try to live in the moment with Valin and Marco. They deserve it. I deserve it. On Mother’s day, we woke to enjoy a nice long walk together at Birds Hill Park. Something we’ve never really done. We have always had a nice family bike ride, ending at the beach with a picnic. I wanted to bring something of Madox’s so I could feel him with us. I immediately grabbed his medical alert bracelet. The only item he never took off, well until he was diagnosed. I kept it in my pocket, holding it, gently rubbing the inscription. It made me feel he was walking alongside us.

 

 

 

Walking at Birds Hill Park

 

 

 

We then headed to where Madox was laid to rest. There was no discussion about it as it has just become a tradition we adopted. The last place we ever got to see his sweet soft face. The last place we could hold his hand. The last place I never want to be on Mother’s day. Our new home away from home. People say I shouldn’t go to his plot. They say it just reopens wounds. Sorry, but these wounds will never heal. They are still wide open and gaping. How would you feel if you were standing in my shoes? You would do what you feel is right, in the moment. What you feel is necessary for your heart. What you feel you need to get through another day.

 

 

So we sit where our son is buried. Think about past memories, sharing happy stories and sing a song for him. I laid two cookies for him made by two wonderful friends. An older friend who was lucky to have met Madox, and helped me through some very hard days when Madox was ill. And a newer friend who never met Madox, but he was the reason we met. He brought us together, creating a friendship that may not have happened.  So I sit by his plate, tears raining down. This pain hasn’t faltered. At times I may seem crazy. That’s okay. I would have given up my life for him. I would have sold my soul. That’s not crazy I realized. That’s just called mom. I clearly didn’t get to choose either of those options. Instead we continue to sit here. Wishing everything was different for this mom on Mother’s day.

 

 

love made by friends Angi and Rhonda