Today was one of the first good Saturdays I can remember in a very long time
It was reminiscent of Saturdays long long ago in my life
before my life changed so drastically and dramatically
It reminded me of my life before
Before I had the stain of imprisonment on my soul
Before my life was lost to me
Before I had so many dead children’s spirits hovering around
Before their spirits lurked about every corner
Wisps of themselves still held here by my need to keep them close
Shadows that dance just out of the corner of my eye, that disappear and flee as soon as I fully turn to see them in their ethereal wholeness
I know that if my children’s souls are not fully at rest, it is all my fault, my selfishness, that keeps them somehow, somewhere on this plane of existence
While my physical self realizes that there is nothing I can do for them at all
The mother in me still wishes for second chances
Second chances that will never come
Their earthly lives are now over forever,
and I hold them hostage in their spiritual lives
I hold them in an uneasy place (for all of us, I wonder?), because even though I know that they are gone forever
It is “Forever” I will hold them, tied to me, and I feel really bad about that, because I am still human, selfish, because I cannot let go, so that we all could have peace, but I’m human, a mother.
Their mother.
A mother who sometimes refuses to admit that I have dead children, and yet I also feel like it is a giant banner written all over my body or a bubble that is clearly visible to all
Whether clothed or naked, the words, ‘mother of dead kids’ is emblazoned across my forehead, or so it seems to me, it feels like that all the time, and I cannot scrub that permanent mark off
But today I woke up early for a Saturday; there was no one to get up for school
My oldest son lives elsewhere, my oldest daughter had stayed out all night and my youngest was catching up on her sleep for sure
But when I woke up this morning and tossed and turned,
begging my body to go back to sleep,
to rest for just a few more precious moments
I wanted to remain in the state of unknowing
The place where there was already the uneasy, unwanted, forced acceptance of one child gone and five healthy ones sleeping in their rooms
The ‘me time’ when I could get up and have my coffee
and be very still at the dining table
and see which of the five would rise and pad into the kitchen and look for something to eat
To either decide what to get or go back
and wake a sibling for a joint meeting in front of the open refrigerator door,
while they scratched and yawned and poked little hands inside to touch, taste, smell and
finally decide to go back and wake the others for a more in depth committee meeting,
Which would conclude with, “let’s wake up mommy, so she can cook us something”
At which time I would clear my throat and ask,
as they all turned and jumped in a slight shock,
surprised to see me quietly sitting at the table behind them the whole time
“Well what do you monsters want?”
I would cook and play the music LOUD as we danced all around
And our regular Saturday morning routine would be under way
Afterwards we would have our regular “Saturday clean up party”
The reality these days is that there are now 3 of my babies, gone from me forever My first born has been gone since she was just 2 ½ years old, a son, since he was 15 and another son since he was 20.
From 1988 until 2008, I lost 3 children to senseless violence.
I do not think it is the city I live in,
nor do I blame guns,
I simply am forced to accept that
I have the stain of the knowledge that I have 3 babies gone from me physically.
And so as I got up to go make coffee and sit at the dining room table this morning
I held on to that Saturday feeling
Of Saturdays long long ago
And I will somehow make this a good Saturday for the ones I still have here with me
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