I stumbled upon this blog http://www.aninchofgray.blogspot.com/ and started to read. The picture of the little boy, the writer’s son, reminded me so much my little Gigi.
This writer, this Mom, lost her 12-year-old son in a tragic accident. I don’t know the details. A bridge. A flood. In their own neighborhood. The unthinkable, the unimaginable.
As the mom also mentions in the blog post, my eye is drawn to the belly of Jack (that’s his name. Jack). I think of all the kissing and tickling and hugging that belly saw…that my children’s bellies see.
As parents, we cannot live and love like we are grieving (unless we are, than that’s what you do). There is that saying…”live like today is your last….” I hate that saying. What I am supposed to do? Vodka shots? Jump from a plane? Sit and stare at my family, like they are museum relics? You have to live like tomorrow is going to happen, because it is real. It is true.
If I lived like I was going to lose my children the next day, I could not. The fear of the pain would swallow me whole.
Bills to be paid, homework to be checked. Working out, food-buying. Cleaning dishes, bathtime. But oh….bathtime.
The 8 year old turns away from me, “Mom, I need privacy,” she hisses. Yes, yes of course you do.
The just-about-five-year old is, naturally, of two minds. “Wash my hair, Mom. Now go away!”
But the 21 month old has the giant belly. She is proud of it, pats at and throws her head back and laughs. And I get to scrub that belly and eat toes and kiss fingers…all I want.
Jack, the young man who has died, had the same belly that my Gigi has.
You can see it, right there. Hanging over her skirt.
This blog for parents who have sweet children with big bellies. Love them up.
And to those who miss the bellies, who are suffering with tremendous loss…my prayers, thoughts, and love goes to you.
xoxoxo