“I can do hard things” kind of a day
I recently ventured back into the world that is online dating. One of the questions within this latest app is “If I could solve one world problem, what would it be?” My answer was simple: For mothers to never bury their children. It’s difficult when we look at social media today and all we see is death and hatred. So many “causes” to get behind that, at times, it seems overwhelming and impossible. I learned from Dean Graziosi that if you can determine what is the one problem you can solve that will fix so many other issues or concerns, it simplifies the complex. It is done by just by focusing on the One Big Thing. For me, if mothers really never had to bury their children, we would resolve so many of these complicated issues - police brutality, pediatric brain cancer, all cancer for that matter, racism, addiction and so many diseases.
Today, I stood by my friend who is burying her son. This day comes two years after she lost her daughter. She has outlived both of her children. She knows the horrendous heartache of addiction first hand. She has such strength and resolve for change that I can only imagine having the ability to muster. The Opiod Crisis in this country was intentionally created and it is oozing with greed and corruption. Addiction is a disease we don’t treat. Instead we criminalize it and abandon these families to private lives of despair. Today, when I signed his casket along with every other person there, I struggled to find the right words. I settled on: A life that’s been lived well is one that’s been LOVED. He was only 23.
I remember the first funeral I went to for a child. It gutted me. I was only 15 but the tiny casket was heartbreaking. I remember my mom said such strange things that day, the types of things the very religious often say: They are in a better place. They are with the Lord now. It felt so wrong and so removed from any place of genuine feeling. She has been at every funeral she’s ever been invited to. I never understood it but today I finally did. I can see the value of attending and how it benefits the people left behind, not the one who is gone. I was several years from becoming a mother myself at that first tiny person funeral, but I felt the pain of that loss that day. It was visceral and raw and wrong.
Nearly four years ago, I became friends with a mom who lost her son to DIPG. Our sons were friends and her loss was unimaginable, but helping my son grieve the loss of his friend was also unbearable. My heart hurt for my own child and I could only imagine the hurt she was feeling. Why do children get cancer? Why do moms have to bury their babies? She and I bonded over the closeness our boys shared. My first experience with depression came after this loss. It was a dark time and I struggled with my relationship with God so much. I took away from that experience the lessons of watching mothers be strong and courageous even when they have no desire to be. I learned about the type of dedication and tenacity that it takes to create a fundraising effort that makes a difference in the face of pediatric cancer research.
Thirteen years ago next month, one of my dearest friends lost her baby boy only 17 days after he was born to a dreadful disease, SMA. I wish I could say I was a better friend to her when she was in the murky grief filled early days, but I hope I’ve made up for it in every conversation we’ve had since that was filled with tears and so much love. I may not have been by her side as she laid his tiny body to rest, but I know of her pain and the heartache that came from losing her infant. We have spent many of the past 13 years discussing the aftermath of what is a mother trying to find her way to living again after she loses her child.
I just come back to the unjustness of it all. Whether it’s due to disease or addiction or hatred. The countless number of mothers who have buried their black sons in America is alarming. Black Lives Matter and police brutality may be widely debated and discussed, but it just breaks my heart. The more I shut up and listen, the more I learn about how deep-seated hatred runs through the veins of this country. It just puts on a different hat and we call it something else as the years progress. Racism is an ugly truth that still exists and it’s taking babies from their mamas. How can anyone stand to justify any action that results in a mother losing her child?
Today, as I stood by watching yet another friend say goodbye to her child, I just come back to: It’s just not fair. And even though no one ever told me life was supposed to be fair, this type of loss feels just plain wrong. On these hard days, I like to focus on what I have control over. What can I possibly do to help? Where is my choice in this human existence that includes so much pain?
I can choose love. I can do hard things because my friends need me. Today, I just hugged my friend and stood there beside her with no words. I can love on my friends when they most need it. I can do my best to be a light in a world that feels so very dark at times. One of my favorite quotes serves as an excellent reminder here.
“At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel.”
I hope at the end of my life, my legacy is a room filled with those who say I made them feel loved.