Search results for mother (202)
The unreasonable love of a mother
© 2007 Tanel Teemusk, Flickr | CC-BY-SA | via Wylio
The doctor told her
“This pregnancy can kill you.
Your body likely can’t carry to term.”
And
“Nobody knows you’re carrying
There will be no shame
No guilt if you terminate.”
And
“Even if people knew
They would understand . . .
Think about your husband
Your parents
Your family and
Your friends.”
*****
She knew,
of course she knew
Everyone knew
She wouldn’t, couldn’t conceive
This wasn’t suppose to happen
This wasn’t planned.
Her disease, her body
Couldn’t take a pregnancy.
“Talk it over” the doctor said.
“This isn’t an easy decision”
He said.
*****
But in her heart
She made up her mind.
She would risk her life
For the slim chance of birth.
I imagine it wasn’t popular
there were empty platitudes
I imagine words were spoken
Behind her back and
To her face.
*****
We can’t always explain love
Love doesn’t always listen to sense.
Today, love laid in her casket
Today, love packed the church
Today, love poured out in tears
Today, a one year old
stole a last look
At the one who gave her life
The one who gave her love.
Because the unreasonable love of mothers
Is the meaning of history
A Poem about a Mother’s Grief and Loss
This past week we had a funeral for a 23 year old whose alcohol problems caused an untimely death*. During the funeral — which was one of the more powerful funerals I’ve ever worked — the mother of this young man somehow mustered the strength to read the following poem. I don’t know who wrote the poem, and neither did the mother; and, honestly, it’s doesn’t even come close to having great poetic structure.
What it does manage to do is capture the honest, grieving soul of a mother who had to bury her child in a way that I’ve never heard enunciated.
Don’t Tell Me
Please don’t tell me you know how I feel,
Unless you have lost your child too.
Please don’t tell me my broken heart will heal,
Because that is just not true.
Please don’t tell me my son is in a better place,
Though it is true, I want him here with me.
Don’t tell me someday I’ll hear his voice, see his face,
Beyond today I cannot see.
Dont tell me it is time to move on,
Because I cannot.
Dont tell me to face the fact he is gone,
Because denial is something I can’t stop.
Don’t tell me to be thankful for the time I had,
Because I wanted more.
Don’t tell me when I am my old self you will be glad,
I’ll never be as I was before.
What you can tell me is you will be here for me,
That you will listen when I talk of my child.
You can share with me my precious memories,
You can even cry with me for a while.
And please don’t hesitate to say his name,
Because it is something I long to hear everyday.
Friend please realize that I can never be the same,
But if you stand by me,
You may like the new person I become someday.
*I’ve changed some of the details of the funeral I mentioned above in order to protect the family’s privacy. If you know which funeral I’m referring to, please continue to comfort them and pray for them.
Listening to the screams of a bereaved mother
© 2009 Quinn Dombrowski, Flickr | CC-BY-SA | via Wylio
I write this as I’m listening to a mother frantically scream, “That’s my baby!!!” as she views the body of her deceased 24 year old son for the first time since his death. She’s kicking
screaming
stomping
weeping.
I write this as my own therapy … it’s hard to listen to. It must be harder to be her. I can’t imagine.
A Jewish couple who met in school, they were unable to have any kids of their own so they adopted what became their only son, now snatched away from an overdose.
Cold.
Limp.
Unnatural.
Helpless.
My dad comes over to me. We stare at each other for about 30 seconds in silence before he says, “Any mother would do that…” It’s hard to listen to. There’s nothing to say at these times, yet everything wants to be said.
*As with all my posts, circumstances, dates and details have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.
Sometimes the Stars Align: Fulfilling His Mother’s Final Wish
This from Frank Somerville KTVU‘s facebook page.
This is one of the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever seen.
It’s also one of the most heartbreaking pictures I’ve ever seen, because of what happened just 72 hours later.This is Ryan Manning dancing with his mother Mary Ann Manning at his wedding earlier this month.
He says simply:
“It was very special.”The reason it was so special is because three years ago Mary Ann was diagnosed with breast cancer.
And in the past few months her condition got so bad that she was confined to a wheelchair.But there was ONE thing she was determined to do.
She was determined to dance with her son at his wedding.And this is a picture of the two of them as they slowly swayed back and forth to the song, “Somewhere over the Rainbow.”
Ryan says:
“”I think that everybody kind of realized what they were seeing.
And what they were seeing was an incredibly strong woman doing a magnificent thing.
A miracle, I think.”Mary Ann’s daughter Karie says:
“It was incredibly emotional, especially to see her pop out of the wheelchair.
(During) the days leading up to it, we were helping her do everything, even walk, and to see her just jump up, it was amazing.”Mary Ann literally used all her strength to live long enough to dance with her son.
It was almost as if the wedding kept her alive.
Because unfortunately just three days later she died.Her daughter Kristie says:
“To have this moment to cherish and to relive through the video, we’re so happy.
And (we’re so) happy to share that story with other people.
For other people to know what an amazing woman she was.
We’re so, so lucky to call her our mother.”Heather Holmes spoke with the family tonight and we aired their story on the Ten O’Clock News.
Reading about Ryan and his mom is one thing, but seeing them actually dancing together is a whole different story.
And here’s a link if you’d like to watch it:
“A Mother’s Journey”: 20 photos of a Mother’s love for her dying son
“A Mother’s Journey” is photo documentary taken by Renée C. Byer about a mother’s love for her cancer ridden 10 year old son. This series — taken over the course of a year — won a Pulitzer Prize in 2007. The photos and story are equal parts tragic and beautiful, traversing the mystery of death that encompasses our worst fears and yet our purest levels of humanity.
To view the photos and text click HERE. Oh, and grab a tissue box.
