Ode to a Mother’s Heart – Part II

Last month, I attended the funeral of a co-worker’s daughter. She was only twenty-seven years old. A beautiful soul, inside and out. She and her mother were joined at the hip. As a mother myself, I could only imagine the thoughts rolling around in this mother’s head, the depth of the pain in her heart, the weight of the burden upon her shoulders, and the hundreds of unanswered questions that wanted to consume her.

This week, I attended yet another funeral for the untimely death of a mother’s child. This son was just twenty-two years old and had even served in the military. He was his mother’s pride and joy: strong, handsome, charming, with his whole life ahead of him. Witnessing the pain in this mother’s eyes pierced me to my core.

For these families, I imagine there will be many tomorrows before the pain eases.

I don’t care how tough you think you are; a parent having to bury a child will bring anyone to their knees! It is a bitter pill no parent should ever have to swallow. Myriad emotions run rampant. The mind replays a flood of memories. The inner voices and screams cry out in despair and in utter darkness at midday.

My heart grieves for these families, and for any family that endures this tragedy. But especially for the mothers. I can only fathom the sheer loneliness of a mother’s heart after losing her child, no matter the child’s age. Surely, every tear that escapes serves as an expression of the genuine love embedded in a mother’s heart for a lifetime, which runs deeper than the nine months she carried that child in her womb.

I’ve asked myself why many times. But I think I know the reason I tend to weep upon hearing the first sound of a newborn’s cry. I am reminded that a little miracle came out of me! New beginnings. Those cries remind me of that special moment in time when I first felt pure joy, hope, and thanksgiving. I am awakened to a sea of memories of the dreams and plans I had for this gift of a new life. As fate would have it, not every dream comes to fruition, and not every wish becomes a reality; many joys and sorrows come with caring for children. But I imagine no sorrow can compare to having to say goodbye to your little one (young or old), knowing that it should have been the other way around.

I hurt for these mothers. Although they may never get over the loss of their child, I pray that in time, they will get through it.

Ode to a Mother’s Heart (Part I)