Warrior Mother

DH and I attended Robbies Wake/Visitation last night. It was not as hard as I expected. I have this innate ability to lock things down in time of crisis, to put myself on hold for the sake of others. I don't control it or make a concious effort of it, it just happens when I see someone crying, upset, distraught, I go into automatic comforting mode. Robbie looked young again, the ravages of his pain and disease were gone and he was at peace lying in his final bed. How could I be sad for this vibrant man who had lived in so much pain and discomfort when I knew he was at peace and healed. I couldn't. This amazing sense of complete and utter stillness filled me and I was happy for him.

His family on the other hand, were devastated. His sister, bless her heart, was lost in a sea of tears the whole night. His wife, Vicki, was holding together amazingly well. She was on autopilot ofcourse, seeing to the details, struggling to hold back the tears and greet people and stay strong for all the kids. You could see it the way she rubbed one of their backs as they cuddled closer or how she rubbed her hand down her little boys hair as he passed by. She was the perfect image of a Mother. This amazing woman with 4 inche black stilletos tucked under her chair, stockinged feet stepping softly on carpet, red rimmed eyes, and a long black dress smiling and hugging people as they passed. She truly amazed me. In her grief and strength she was a goddess of motherhood and someone I can look up to.

I greeted those I knew, held his sister while she cried, hugged my friends as they struggled to be stronger for the sake of his family. I chatted in the sunshine outside with a group of old friends as we laughed about all the good times and crazy things we had done at Robbie's house and where everyone was now. We planned for the future, in the way he would have wanted us to. We discussed getting everyone back together for a reunion in his honor and trying to keep better lines of communication open to stay in touch. We passed around new phone numbers, a few tears, some comforting smiles and hugs (and all secretly wondered when we could go searching for that bottle of Jack Daniels that some one was bound to have stashed under the seat in their car.)

Through it all, the one thing I kept coming back to was Vicki. This woman showed me in a two hour period what it was to truly be a strong loving mother and wife. I grew up a little more last night in the shadow of death. I realized that I'm not only going to have to be this provider and nurturer but I'm going to have to put aside everything that I am sometimes and be a warrior, a lioness, a pillar of strength. Not just in times that cause for protection which we all expect. Every one of us knows that should something threaten our families we would kill to protect them. I have no problem with that. But we have to also put our grief and fear aside in times of pain and be the strong ones for our children. At this moment, I can not imagine the absolute pain and tragedy that would befall me if I lost my husband. I would be devastated beyond compare, but I know that WHEN we succeed in having children, I will be strong for them. I will be XENA, warrior mother, when I have to be. I have it in me. It does not diminish my desire in the least bit. It only makes it stronger to see a family, so loving, so full of life, being held together by that strongest of links: a true mother.