Her wrinkled hands hold back the curtains and she stands and stares as the colored leaves once again begin to fall…and she remembers his face, on this not so random day in October.
She takes her morning walk, like she does every morning. But today, in the crisp air, her gaze is distracted and her pace is a little slower. She still stops for coffee at Betty Lou’s, but today, she’s a little quieter. “You look tired, my dear,” her friend takes note. A nod and a small, forced smile is her only reply. She finishes her walk home and notices the middle-aged man helping his elderly parent out of the car. The old mother once again feels that dull ache, on this chilly, not so random day in October.
Clearing out her office, before the winter weather begins again, before she’s too old to enjoy living, before time robs her of what is left, she begins to fill her empty box. The pictures and the diplomas that once hung on busy walls, leave lonely nails in their place. In her perfectly manicured hands, she holds the frame of a photo that makes her pause. It wasn’t the employee of the year award or the doctorate degree, but a single photo with a silent sign that only she could see. She strokes her silver hair and is lost in thought as she stops to reflect. 30 years at the same office, and no one ever noticed that she always requested vacation, every year, on this not so random day in October.
What a beautiful wedding! Bright orange and yellow mums and sweet little acorns on the tables, the sign of new beginnings. The band plays and the people dance and young love fills the air. And as happy as she is for the perfect match…when the beaming groom takes his mother’s hand….the music seems to quiet and the twinkling lights stop. In her world, time stands still and a small tear sneaks past the tiny wrinkles around her eye. With a smile on her face, her heart still longs for him, on this festive, not so random day in October.
Raking the leaves, it’s best to keep busy.Ā There’s too much to do, to sit and wait. But her mind is full and she wonders when this day will stop being hard. A butterfly lands on the bush beside her, a rare sight this time of year. The orange and black wings beat ever so slowly and her efforts to be productive are paused. “You’d be a senior this year…” she says… and she stops to imagine how his dark hair would’ve come in. I wonder if he had my brown eyes or his Dad’s blues…Would he be a football star? Or a science geek? Homecoming, Prom and Graduation are daunting days ahead that she dreads. And once again, she feels robbed, on this chilly, not so random day in October.
Readying the decorations, she plops two new mums on the front porch and dusts off the old wreath. This is never her favorite time of year, but deception is easier than explaining. Despite her pain, she tries to make the house look welcoming. Halloween will be coming and the kids will be in costume. She wonders what he would’ve wanted to be… A super hero perhaps, or maybe a fire fighter? She can’t decide if the trick or treaters and the bowl of candy she reluctantly empties into their pillow cases is soothing reassurance or a stabbing betrayal. She turns off the phone and sits alone, hot cider in hand, wondering if it will ever get easier… this painful, not so random day in October.
Today she wants to be alone. The little energy she has, she reserves for self care and reflection-there is none left for small talk or busy work. The house is too quiet, so she goes to the trees to be one with her thoughts. Somewhere along the paved path, the painstaking sound of pittering feet come running towards her. Two little red shoes chase a round blue ball and she wants so badly to look and smile; but the reality of her loss averts her eyes. Quickly she runs to the car and back to the house. She buries her head in her pillow and then reaches for his box. Tonight, she’ll lay with his blanket and her heart’s exhaustion will lull her to sleep, on this sorrowful, not so random day in October.
The empty crib was the worst…or was it the look on the doctor’s face when she did the ultrasound? No…no those weren’t the worst…It was the quiet of the room. Yes! That awful, awful quiet when he was born, that, was the worst…the deafening silence when all of her hopes and dreams came crashing into a lifeless little lump wrapped in a blue blanket…and her wails filled the space that his cries should have. Breathing is hard right now. Living is hard right now. Mothering is hard right now. As night falls, her exhausted body collapses into a restless slumber and she is sure that she will never, ever recover, from this horrible, nightmare of a day in October.
It’s the lifetime achievements, the milestones and the memories that she’ll never get. It’s the love that she gave, the laughter that she missed and the heartache that is never ending. It’s the name that no one will say for fear of upsetting her and the name that she whispers every night in her dreams. It’s the face only she stroked and the feet only she kissed. The tears that she cries alone and the story that she hates that she knows.
And it’s the lessons that she’s learned and the hands that she’s held…the tears that she has wiped and the ways that she has understood…it’s the tiny gowns that she has sewn and the meals that she has made…it’s the presence that she is and the changes she has made, for every parent who shares her pain…All done in her son’s name.
Opening the box once more, her wrinkled hands carry the tattered blue blanket back to her chair. And she rubs the soft threads between her smooth finger tips as she nods off into a peaceful slumber. And another leaf falls.
“Momma,” she hears…
Dark brown hair and his father’s crystal blue eyes meet hers…and right away, she knows. She whispers his name and he smiles a smile that she has waited a lifetime to see. “I have so much to tell you….,” he says. And tears of joy stream down her face. Hand in hand they walk into the light, mother and son, together again, on this beautiful, not at all random, day in October.
