In Memoriam, for Matthew

Three years ago next month, my eldest son's best friend died in a car accident. It was a tragic loss, a shock to all of us, but to none more so than Matthew's mother and father. You see, Matthew was riding in the car with his father when his dad lost control on a back country road and slammed head-on into another vehicle. Matthew died instantly from a broken neck.

In the aftermath of all of this, while trying to console my son and make some sense of such a senseless accident, I wrote this poem in memory of Matthew...in memory of every child lost before his time and for the mothers who have to let them go.

In Memoriam, 7-12-05

In the stillness of your room
The only sounds,
Your breath and mine
I cradle you
Just for a moment,
But forever in time
Holding your body, skin on skin
Alone in the dark, in the peace of quiet
Just as once the whole of me held you
Resting alone inside my womb
One careless moment
Twelve years taken away
With you, a part of me died, too
Now I cradle you
Once more, once again
Once, for all of time
Clinging tight, skin on skin
Alone in the dark, in the pain of quiet
To say goodbye, to let you go
Resting alone inside your tomb

© 2005 Laura Hensley

Ironically, my eldest son broke his neck exactly six months later. He survived and did not experience even the slightest adverse affect...there but for the grace of God.

Motherless Daughters

So here's a thought...Mother's Day. For most people, Mother's Day is a joyous occasion, one in which we celebrate those who nurture, care for, and unconditionally love us. It's just one day, one day out of the year, when we give pause to spend time with those women who have had the most influence on our lives.

However, for some of us, Mother's Day serves as a cruel reminder of what could have been but will never be. It's one day, just one, but no matter how many years go by, no matter how much distance we place between ourselves and the loss of our mothers, we are reminded year after year that we no longer have that one person who loved us no matter what.

We are motherless daughters.

Watching other women spend time with their mothers reminds me of just how different my reality is. I missed out on getting to know my mother as her adult child. She doesn't know my children, nor they her. She doesn't know of the things I've accomplished with my life.

Sometimes I still feel as if I am 31, as if time stood still the day I lost my mother. And maybe in some ways it has.