Mother's Day

She sat on the edge of her bed, and looked over at the family portraits taken for her 50th anniversary. I knew what was on her heart as she looked at the pictures. It was confirmed when she stood up and took the one of her son, Tom in her hands, and held it close in her lap. She carefully put it back on the dresser and went in to get dressed. She came out and sat in her favorite window seat when I greeted her and told her "Happy Mother's day." She said. "Thank you. . . and then looked at me and completing her sentence said, "I miss Tom today." As I looked over at my own son, I understood. I told her, "I am sure you do, Mom. I cannot even imagine the loss you must feel."

And this Mother's Day, as with every other, she thinks of her children, even though only one is still present with her. But he was her firstborn. That birth that changed her life forever. That first time she felt the power of loving this little one on her chest more than words could express. And the power of that kind of love doesn't lessen, because of death. . . in fact that love is only felt that much more intensely, as she feels his absence.