A Peek Inside a Grieving Mother's Thoughts

Ninety miles an hour-that’s how fast my mind can go from here to there.

From what’s in front of me to what’s behind me.

From laughter to swallowing sobs.

We sit in a living room surrounded by toys and playing with children, talking about life and love and plans and people.  The little brown face that turns his eyes to mine looks so much like Dominic I have to suck in my breath.

Giggles.  Squeals.  Cars running up and down my arm and around my feet.

I will never see Dominic’s children.  No brown face made from his genes will ever look into mine, arms reaching for a hug, slobbery kisses planted on my cheek.

Driving down the road I see the motorcyclist weaving in and out of traffic-angling for a quicker way along the highway, trusting other drivers to do their part in keeping him safe.

And my heart nearly stops.

Please, please, please be careful!  Your mama doesn’t want to bury you!

Nothing I can do or say.  Just like that morning.  No way to undo what may happen, what has happened.

Stop for groceries.  No more wandering up and down the aisles looking for bargains, drawing in smells of yummy goodness.

Stick to the list.  Only go where I have to.  There are so. many. ways. to miss him!  So many sights and smells and memories that lurk around each corner and draw my heart back in time to before-before it knew what it was to have a child utterly unreachable.

Small talk.  Pay attention, Melanie!  Don’t let your mind drift and lose the conversation thread.

“You doing OK today, ma’am?”

OK-what does that mean?  Not crying?  Not screaming at the awful reality that fills my days?  Still walking?  Still functioning?  Still able to get in my car and buy groceries?

“Yes, I’m fine.  How about you?”