Who would ever dream that six months later, Olivia would be gone too and parents would be having discussions with their children about the death of a child while tucking them into bed at night.
In the weeks after Olivia's death, I was also contacted by a woman who had lost her daughter in an act of violence. She had asked if she, her husband, and another childless mother could come and talk to me about my sufferings. I gave them the OK to come to my home to talk with me. Not knowing who the people were, I started rethinking my decision to have strangers who claim to have lost a child come to my house while I'm alone. My neighbor/friend, J, agreed to sit with me while they stopped by. The three of them come over and couldn't have been more sincere. There was M, an older woman, who described to me that her son had lost his battle with AIDS in his mid twenties. The older couple that came with M, had tragically lost their daughter several years back by an ex boyfriend who decided to shoot their lovely daughter.
While both stories of loss are tremendously sad, I couldn't relate. They had their children so much longer that I got to have Olivia on earth with me. They got to see their children go on first dates, get a driver's licenses, and graduate from high school. I didn't even get to see my sweet angel finish third grade.
On the other hand, I was fortunate that I didn't lose Olivia to an act of violence where I would have to go to court hearings and have such anger or resentment towards my daughter's murderer. I'm fortunate that I didn't watch my child suffer through a hittable illness.
But yet, I just couldn't make a connection with that lovely couple and woman who didn't have to reach out to me. They could have just read the articles in the newspaper and thought, "Oh, what a shame."
On my first Mother's Day after Olivia passing, the mother who lost her daughter to violence stopped by while I was mowing the lawn. Yes, I cut the grass on Mother's Day. She had a bouquet of flowers for me and a hug. I asked her, "What do you do each Mother's Day?" She replied, "I cry." I never did stay connected to that lovely woman......
I needed to find that little boy's mother. I needed to talk to someone that experienced sudden loss of a little kid and know that I'm not the other mother who feels this emptiness.
Through the help of my wonderful neighbor, J, we located the little boy's mom and I called her. In all honesty, I really didn't expect her to even entertain the notion that we meet for coffee or whatever but she did call me back and we did make plans to meet for coffee. I invited her to my home and again, she accepted my invitation.
Two grieving mothers (and a little grieving sister)...... what the hell do you talk about? The only thing we knew what to talk about. Our stories.
She spoke of the day that she lost her son and I shared with her about the deaths of my tragic day. She shred with me the fact that a baseball field had been dedicated in her son's memory and how she had gotten a tattoo in his memory on the back of her neck. Both of those would get my ideas spinning.........
We went to a short walk with Ainsley, talked some more, then parted ways to never meet up with each other again. I don't know why...... perhaps that's all we needed from each other was comfort that we knew that there was another mom whose child was taken away from them in the blink of an eye?
Perhaps I'm not meant to connect with a mother that shares a very similar loss. Perhaps I'm supposed to continue to make the connections, or even friendships with the people that I have been bonding with since Olivia's death. Make those friendships stronger. Perhaps those connections and friendships are what keeps me going.