For the past few years trying to practice mindfulness and praying for miracle healing have been my priorities. I lost my son last October and it has been a devastating journey for me and the entire family. However, I made up my mind just yesterday that something positive must be derived from this very sad journey. He was my only son and nothing will ever replace him. I have two grandsons who are and will be his legacy; but even though it might sound weird for a grandmother to say, they will not replace my son. I love them dearly and see a lot of my son in them but they are not him.
I have decided to dedicate the rest of my time on this earth to creating a new mindset, a new life’s purpose, and making my son’s memory noteworthy.
For months, I prayed and asked God for a miracle. I knew that my son’s illness would be hard to fight. His illness was his fight and his life’s journey and as they say, unfortunately, Cancer was in the cards he was dealt. But, I prayed even harder; more than ever in my life. I asked for God’s forgiveness just in case he was punishing me for some reason, and as a result it was my fault somehow that my son was suffering so much.
I sat for hours meditating and using visualization techniques. I would send my son inspiring quotes and biblical verses to keep him hopeful. He fought the good fight. He so believed that it would be God’s will. He also hoped for a miracle. As his mother I did not want him to give up and I prayed for a miracle until the very end. People told me that the miracle was that my son was not suffering anymore and that he was now in God’s presence. Well, I did not want to accept that either. They told me God needed him more. How ridiculous is that I thought to myself silently. We needed him more; his two young sons and wife would need him more. How could God not understand our needs? I needed him. I wanted him to bury me not the other way around.
The road of grief is a long and winding one. It is also a lonely one sometimes. It brings you to very dark spaces. People really try to cheer you up and provide you with some mindful wisdom. But when your heart is shattered into little pieces, good thoughts and prayers do not do it for you. I am so grateful for the support and loving kindness of family and friends.I am so blessed; don’t get me wrong; but my heart was not getting it. I hope it does someday. I want to find a way out of this misery. I really do. I do not want my family to worry about my mental health and feel that they have to continue to feel compassion because I am so heartbroken.
I do not mean to sound selfish; I know my husband, daughter, daughter-in-law and grandsons are just as heartbroken or maybe even more. The thing is that my son came from me. So it feels like a part of me has also perished and I will never be whole or the same again.
Prayers help sometimes; but doubts march in many times and trample them. Questions invade me at night. Anger many times would lead me to hate things like Chemo, and the brutal treatments people are subjected to during their bout with Cancer. I hate to hate anything. But I needed to blame something and everything related to his treatments. I hated how his faith seemed to have failed him. But what I was really angry about was that my prayers had failed to cure him.
I recently started reading more about the stages of grief. I realize that it will take time to get through the nightmares. I know that all these feelings are what grief is all about.
I want to focus on the great memories; there were so many beautiful moments to remember. I do continue to pray. I practice mindfulness every morning. Gordon Hempton, an audio ecologist says, “the earth is a solar powered jukebox.” I listen and keep in mind that life is always present and nature is miraculous. I try to set my intentions for another day’s journey.
I am planning projects that involve commemorating my son’s work as an architect. He observed things very closely looking for the indescribable and fantastic structures in everything, even in the darkness and the shadows, he found beauty. That is what I hope to learn to do. Jose Otega y Gasset, a Spanish philosopher said it best, “tell me to what you pay attention and I will tell you who you are.” I know my darling son knew who he was and his purpose in life but I hope he also learned that he was very special to so many and that he will always be remembered and loved.