Finding Compassion

 

 

As I lay here tonight, trying to find the words to accurately describe what the holidays feel like for me as a bereaved parent, I find myself at a loss for words. I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm empty and I'm emotionally torn. I'm thankful that I'm still here. I'm thankful I get to spend another holiday season with my daughter and see her smile every day, but most of all, I'm sad. Sad that there will be an empty seat at our table. I'm sad that Keller was only allowed one holiday season. One Thanksgiving, one Christmas, one birthday. It's absolutely devastating. It's even more devastating to know these things were taken from him in a senseless act of violence. I'm not devastated that these things were taken from me, I'm devastated that my precious boy deserved so many more than just one. 

 

But strangely, I feel overwhelming compassion for the family of the man that took my son knowing I'm not the only one that is suffering this holiday season. This man has a family all his own and I know they are suffering immensely. Although there's an empty seat at my table, there is also an empty seat at his family's table, two little girls who will be without their daddy and a mother who longs for her son to sit at her table again.

 

In a matter of minutes, two mothers lost their son. One for 16 years and one forever. I'm almost tempted to say that I grieve for her and his children the same, if not more, than I grieve for myself. I wish that I could take away her loss, because no mother, no matter what the circumstances, should be without their baby. I wish that I could hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, that I understand her pain, because neither she nor I chose for this to be our life. I wish that I could sit and cry with her. I wish that I could hug his little girls and tell them that I'm sorry.

 

I will, for the rest of my natural life, mourn the death of my son, but I will also mourn for the "forgotten family" in this tragedy, wholly, respectfully and without judgment.

 

So this year, most of all, I'm thankful that buried deep inside of my being lies a desire to feel compassion for the people I once thought undeserving and that's a pretty incredible feat considering the circumstances.

It Takes A Village

Let's talk about relationships. Let's talk about post-divorce, holy shit, what did I get myself into, relationships. Because those can be, for lack of a better word, a clusterfuck.

So, you got divorced. You find yourself almost 30 and single with a six year old daughter. Dating hasn't gone well for you post-divorce, but low and behold, miraculously, your ex-husband has managed to find someone. Someone who he cares about and who cares about him. Awesome. Wait... this "new girl" is going to be involved in my child's life. Shit. I forgot about that. What the fuck do I do now? Well, you buckle up cupcake, it's about to get bumpy.

My philosophy has always been "it takes a village to raise a child." But what if that village isn't "your" village. Shit. Again. Well here's what I've learned:

1. You're not being replaced, momma, calm down. You carried this baby, loved this baby, wiped her ass, dried her tears and have loved her since the moment you laid eyes on her. You can't erase or replace that.

2. Maybe you're apprehensive to actually be fond of this new woman in your daughter's life. Damn sure caught me off guard that I might actually like the thought of my super manly ex-husband having someone there to do the girly things with my daughter when she's at her dad's, instead of playing in the mud and teaching her how to play XBox or whatever play machine he stays on.

3. Maybe this new woman who has entered your child's life is a hell of a good woman. Bonus. Think... this woman will be there to calm fears and dry eyes and do mani/pedi girl dates in your absence in a way that only another female can do. Because, I mean, how fun could it be to have a mani/pedi date with dad? Not so much.

4. We've had some messed up shit happen in our lives, my ex-husband and I, and my biggest fear has always been that he's away in Georgia with no one there to make sure he's okay. This "new woman" just took on that responsibility and removed a huge cause for stress in my life. She did that without batting an eyelash and that demands an incredible amount of respect.

5. When I got divorced, I never "pre-thought" what it might be like to see my ex-husband with another female. When it smacks you in the face, there's so many emotions you didn't see coming. Jealously - wow. Definitely didn't see that one coming. Not jealous of the actual woman that's with your husband, like she's prettier or smarter or better, just unexplained jealousy. She's found it in herself to love all the things about him that you didn't. Hell of a feat. I was dumbfounded with jealously, that came out of nowhere, like a surprise sneeze when you're on your period, that he had found someone and I hadn't. Jealous of their happy relationship when I'm struggle-bus'ing to get a damn text back.

So to the woman who dates my ex-husband:

Be good to him. He deserves it. If he's happy, he's a happy parent. When you date a single dad, there's more to worry about than just if you're making him happy. There's an amazing little girl who thinks the world of him.

I promise to never speak poorly of you, in front of my child, or under any circumstances, if only you'll promise the same in return. I hope you do all the girly things with her. I hope that she adores you. I hope that you adore her. If in the future, your family gets to meet my child, I hope they treat her just as any other grandchild, with all the love and adoration that only grandparents can give. I hope that we always have an open line of communication between the two of us, not just through this man that has brought us together. I hope you call me when you don't know how to handle a situation, because sometimes, only a mom knows what to do and I promise to give that advice freely, honestly and without judgment.

I promise to never ask my child invasive questions about her father's life with you because no child should have to be the middle-man and I trust that her father will always be honest with me. I apologize in advance for any awkward situations in the future. This "post-divorce" dating is new to me too and, I assure you, just as weird on my end as it is yours.

All I ask is that you be good to him, be good to my child and be a healthy part of this village that's trying like hell to raise this crazy child. Welcome to the village, friend. We're all batshit crazy here.