by I have never enjoyed writing. NEVER. I don’t feel confidant in my writing abilities and fret constantly about making grammatical errors. How can I express my deepest feelings if I keep backspacing and changing my words? The reason I am even venturing this far is because I feel the need to vent and now that everyone is long distance I may have to use this darned blog to free my mind.
If you have read Marc’s blog you’ll understand that we both have a lot on our minds right now. I can’t even begin to write all the emotions that are consuming me. As a mother my first reaction to the news of their deaths was how of my friend Maurica. You hear of those women who have one chlid and still don’t spend time to get to know them. Maurica is the mother of seven children. They are her life. She works extra jobs to buy them those extras a budget doesn’t allot, she cleans the house before they return from a trip so they’ll feel at home, she drives them to sports, music and entertainment venues at the drop of a hat, she is the mom who brings the homework to school when it’s been forgotten on the kitchen table, she makes the homecoming mums to compete wiith the best florist, she sits in the sun to be there on field days, she searches the house for that hat he has to have today before school, she stays awake all night organizing scrapbooks of her children, she takes the time to have pictures taken to add to those scrapbooks. She is a Super Mom. She has the energy of a two year old after eating a bag of jelly beans, and the heart of a saint. She may have seven children to tend to but she is there to help others in need. What will happen to their Super Mom, to my joyous friend? Will her heart die with the death of her son? He was her first son after having five girls.
Listening to her cries, I felt as if her soul was being ripped from her body. I wanted to run away, I wanted to run to her, I wanted to be able to give her more than my pathetic hugs. I wanted to scream and yell with her, I wanted to go back and convince those idiots at the coroners offic to let her hold her baby. Who are they to know what is best for her, for any mother? Do they think showing her a picture will help her "cope" better? Don’t they know she is the one who counted fingers and toes after he was born? Don’t they know she cried when he went off to Kindergarten? What gives them the right to say, he is too ugly right now for her to see, who the hell gives them the right to take away the right of a mother? I want to wake her and tell her it was just a nightmare. I want to wake up from this nightmare.
I pray that her faith, family and friends will be enough to get her through each day. I pray that someday I will see a smile on her face again. But that won’t be for quite a long time.
