June 14, 2009

She sits alone, in the space created just for her, crying. The tears come easily and constantly. Sometimes single tears slip slowly, gently down her cheeks almost as if not to add more pain to her broken heart. Sometimes she weeps and wails, losing her breathe in the process and giving vent to the terrible pain she feels. Sometimes she rages...at the unfairness, the pain, the unnatural act of outliving her son and at God. She beats her breast, tears at her hair and destroys her surroundings. Usually, she just cries. This is what she does day in and day out, never sleeping or eating, just mourning the loss of her beautiful son. Her role in life was to be Kevin's mother. It is all she ever wanted and it is all she will ever be and she won't be happy until she holds him in her arms once again.

When people ask me how I am healing or if I'm doing better I don't know how to respond. I think that mourning a loss is often viewed as an illness to be cured or an injury to be healed. I will get better, I will heal, the pain will ease. I am not sure of that belief. I am so not sure of that belief that I took Kevin's mother and created a beautiful spot in my heart for her. A place where she can mourn forever if she wants.

The books I've read and my counseling have assisted me in creating a support to hold my pain. She is very much a part of this support and a part of me. Creating her has allowed me to be a wife to Kevin, mother to Kirby and Kwynn, and one half of the income for our family. Creating her has allowed me to continue to engage my life.

Right now, it is the only way I know to survive. My family needs me and I need to cry. Kevin's mom and I are hanging on as tight as we can....together.