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My sister and writing partner Patience has graciously allowed me to reprint this piece she wrote for her own blog. Her compassion unravels like a perfect poem, and I wanted to share it with you. May kindness tend the weary souls of all who weep tonight.

i held a boy almost too big for my arms this morning. josiah buried his face in my chest and let out a long cry. i assured him it’s good to cry, that feelings like to be free. the ones that are bottled up hate it and find other ways to sneak out.

today the tears are a result of being scared, afraid that he’ll never remember the 7 facts about squid. it’s been all about squid here- squid art, squid books, even pin-the-tentacle on the squid game. it’s just too much for a 7 year old, a 30 minute presentation pretending to be the teacher. the burden weighs on josiah’s mind and heart.

i suggest squid power pancakes as they are magic. if you eat them you will remember all that you need to know about squid and be able to tell anyone and everyone about their amazingness. i kiss these tears and an agreement is made that it is indeed time for the power pancakes can bring.

my puffy eyed boy runs to take a bath and i start my day of 1 million tasks.

i have a hard time focusing. i imagine there is some other mother somewhere not far from me that is starting her day. Only this mother is wishing that yesterday was simply a nightmare and surely her sweet boy is anxious about a presention he must make for his professor. instead she attends convocations, in shock and numb. how will she face today without that boy, how can he be gone?

even further away yet another mother faces a deeper dark. her son’s pain and action changed people’s lives forever. the weight is too great for anyone to bear and i can not pretend to know what will keep her soul from drowning.

i can only imagine that these women wish today was the day they were holding little boys almost too big for their arms. the day where pancakes heal the aches of the soul, the day where fears can be conquered with kisses and tears.

the candle on my kitchen altar still glows from yesterday. the holy mother stares at me while i do the dishes. her face knows great pain and sadness. may she hold these mothers close to her bosom, may she come to them in their deepest dark, may she grant them comfort and peace. amen.

for jarrett’s mom

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 17th, 2007 at 9:56 pm and is filed under Journal, compassion, family, kindness, process, questions, virginia tech murders. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.