My Son, My Life
Last night as I was tucking my son to sleep. I remembered a journal of a woman I used to follow on Multiply. Despite being a successful speech pathologist, a mother to a daughter, a wife to a loving husband and a religious woman. She struggled to find meaning in her life. I often felt her struggle and sometimes even feel her pain by just looking at her pictures. I can tell her smile was hiding something because her eyes tells it all. Somehow I felt connected to her, then one day she wrote on her page “The Road has Forked”. I knew then that didn’t mean well, afterwards I found out that she hung herself with an extension cord in the bedroom and was found by her daughter. Tonight I started thinking of her again and thought to myself all those times when I was reading her very public journal I could’ve reached out to her knowing that I can feel her pain maybe it would’ve made a difference…but I didn’t and it was too late. I began to tear up and started thinking of how much we’re alike.
Often times I have struggle and still struggling to find my place in this world. I remember telling myself whenever I hear of a friend or family member with terminal cancer “I wish I was the one with it, I am ready to die anyway”. Or whenever I hear of tragedies such as the Sandy shooting, I told myself if I was there I would shield the kids and take the bullets for them. Basically, I feel that my purpose in life is to die. Last night though while I was sobbing and in deep thoughts about my life. I glanced back to see if my son was already sleeping in my arms, instead he was looking straight at me. Then out of nowhere he reached his tiny hand towards mine and held my finger. As if he was comforting me and then he gave me the most genuine smile that says “Mama, don’t cry everything will be alright”. I then realize in ALL the years of my life that tonight I will not wish to die in my sleep, I will wish to live another day to see my son smile, because I will choose to EXIST for him. People may never ever understand me, like me and love me for who I am, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t think we we’re created to be fully understood by anyone but instead to be accepted for who we are as a person. Not for what they think of us; whether that be crazy, stupid or mean etc. We all need to show compassion to others. Life will always have unanswered questions and some would say prayer is the answer to life’s question. To me the courage to seek for those answer is what gives meaning to life. My dear Gabriel, you truly are an angel for you are Mama’s Angel you made me realized so many things when you reached out and held my hand and for that I THANK YOU! One day when you’re all grown up I want you to read this post, because I want you to know that you have saved me! Last night’s moment will forever be ingrained in my memory and from now on whenever I lose track of my path, I will look in to your eyes and I will be reminded of it. You’ve made my dying heart swell again, you give hope to my dwindling faith. I love you my dear son!
“I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning…to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on earth… and now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own; the cars….the house…the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash. So think about this long and hard… are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left. (You could be at “dash midrange.”) If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real, and always try to understand the way other people feel. And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before. If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile… remembering that this special dash might only last a little while. So, when your eulogy’s being read with your life’s actions to rehash… would you be proud of the things they say about how you spend your dash?” ― Linda Ellis, The Dash Making A Difference With Your Life