Yesterday Robin Williams apparently committed suicide. Brought it all crashing back. All the memories of Evan right back to the surface again. Once again, someone whom we would least suspect. But, I thought I had already learned that lesson.
Had a difficult time sleeping last night, remembering Evan, thinking about Melody, thinking about Evan's mom and family. For a long time I laid there, wishing it had all turned out differently, wishing Evan back. Although I know he was a believer in Christ, and is now celebrating in heaven, far happier than he ever was down here, the human side of me wishes him back. Wishing for his family to be whole again. Wishing that his mother could hug him again. Wishing away all the ramifications and fallout and pain that a suicide leaves in its wake.
One phrase kept circling in my mind until it drove me out of bed. That phrase was 'I never really wanted to be that mother.' I got out of bed and at 5:00 a.m. penned this. It took me an hour and a half of tears to write. Here it is.
That Mother
I never really wanted
to
be that mother.
That mother of a daughter
struggling
through the sadness
of
a love gone forever.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother
holding
my girl and feeling the weight
pushing
–
heavy
upon her shoulder.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother
desperately
praying that my Lord
would
guard her heart,
cradling
it in His hands.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother
who
feels judging eyes fall upon her -
but
wanting to protect her, shield her,
gather
her little girl body into my arms and
kiss
her scraped knees
mend
her bruises
snuggle
my lips into her little girl head
and
breathe her scent,
kissing
it all away.
This
pain doesn’t kiss away.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother,
feeling
with her the shared memory
of
a past suicide.
Pain,
sadness, desperation.
Still
not in the past, but walking continually with us.
Not that mother.
I wanted to be the mother of fun,
of
dance and joy and celebration of life.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother,
That
mother facing his mother,
The
mother with those beautiful eyes that she gave her son.
Eyes
haunted by memories
of
one whom she can no longer
mommy-kiss
away the pain and
wrap
her love around.
Not that mother.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother
Conscious
of the living presence of my girl
facing
the sadness and longing of the mother
with
empty-son arms.
I never really wanted
to
be that mother.
But I am.
I am that mother.
So, I will hold,
I
will cherish,
and
remember.
I will pray,
and
trust,
and
stand.
I will reach out
and
I will give love.
Because I am that mother.
Cindy Johnson - August, 2014
