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Triggers: Loss of a Child
Please share with a mom missing her child.
2009 was the first Mother’s Day without my son, Nick. I remember sitting in front of Nick’s spot at the cemetery sobbing for him.
As I cried, I heard someone call my name. I looked up and saw my friend, Gina Peca. Her daughter died eight years before Nick and was in the same cemetery.
My eyes, filled with shattered hopes, met hers. She wrapped her arms around me and held on as I cried. Words wouldn’t do a thing. What could two bereaved mothers say to one another?
Being held sustained me so I could get through the day.
I know mothers who have just lost a child and this will be their first without them. There are others who are at their 2nd, 3rd, or 30th year grieving their loss.
I see you. I hear you. I understand what you’re going through.
And I wish for you to know HOPE in your broken heart.
This is my 17th Mother’s Day without Nick physically by my side. I’ve learned what not only gets me through, but brings me closer to him in a different way.
I go to his spot.
Clean the area and plant flowers.
Write letters to him.
Bring rocks from places I’ve visited.
It feels vital for me to take this time to connect with my spirit son; to spend time with him. I hear the tree branches sway. The water bubbles over rocks in the nearby stream. As I close my eyes, I feel his presence. Yes, it’s painful. So much harder than giving birth to him, but the connection is as real as if he were sitting next to me.
It has taken a long time to shift from that broken heart. The cracks proved that even the strongest must adjust to make room for the pain. Yet, through the cracks, HOPE grows.
YOU ARE NOT ALONE ♡
The more our heart cracks, the brighter the light that shines in. You may not be in a place to want to read this. It may not be accessible at this moment and that’s OK.
HOPE will come.
As I learned to live and connect with Nick in new ways, the cracks in my heart closed. They weren’t the same, and I know that I will never be the same.
But I could live a full life loving both my children.
I dream of and with Nick.
I Automatic Write to him in a specific journal.
I’m open to signs that he’s popping in.
Hawk soaring in front of my car.
Cardinal perched outside my office window.
A feeling over my right shoulder.
Talking about him openly with family and friends.
Welcoming other messages from Nick.
Losing my 13-year-old son has been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, depression, heartache, and not wanting to continue life without him. It has taken years of pushing the grief away until I physically couldn’t ignore what it was doing to my body.
Through many caring ways, I have created this beautiful relationship with Nick. My life is full, and after 17 years, I feel good about who I am and where I am in my life.
This doesn’t mean that everyday is upbeat and positive. I miss Nick all the time, especially during those life milestones. But I make the time to be with him so I can celebrate and be present with those physically here.
Loss of a child is a lifelong journey of grief. But it doesn’t have to be a broken one.
To everyone who is hurting, heartbroken on Mother’s Day without your child. I’m holding you. I’m sending an energetic hug that envelopes you in comfort and love.
Know that it will not always feel so desperate and impossible.
If you need support, please reach out to me. I am here for you.
Let’s Connect: I would love to hear from you. Feel free to share stories or how this resonates. All thoughts are welcome.
Please share this with someone who has lost a child and could use a hug. ♡
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So beautifully said Janine! Thank you for sharing. It is so helpful to me and I am sure many others! May joy overcome you as you spend time with both your boys on Mother’s Day. 🌷🌷🌷
I love you Aunt J 💙💕