#TBT-Who He Is Today

Country singer Kenny Chesney released a song in 2005 entitled, “Who you’d be today.” It’s about a life gone too soon, a loved one who dies young. The lyrics ask what would have become of that person:

“Would you see the world, would you chase your dreams? Settle down with a family? I wonder what would you name your babies?” They go on, “It ain't fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun but death tore the pages all away. God knows how I miss you, all the hell that I've been through just knowing no one could take your place. Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today?”

I’ve wondered these things in passing, but never dwelled on them, it seems silly to me. Grief counselors call this future loss...things we’ve hoped for that never got a chance to come true. I don’t really understand that. It doesn’t make sense to me to grieve something that I didn’t even know would happen. I realize I may be a minority in thinking this way, however my life experiences have taught me to focus on the moment and not give in to worrying about the future or things I have no control over. Having wisdom to recognize what can be changed, courage to change what I can and being able to know the difference (yes, I am paraphrasing the Serenity Prayer) has been a saving grace for me.

I chose to not focus on what I have lost, and instead offer gratitude for what I was given and continue to receive in the form of love. Is this a glass half empty or half full perspective? Sure, it can be looked at that way. When people learn that I lost a child, I receive a sympathetic response. When they ask if I have other children and I tell them no, it’s like I’ve just given them the one-two punch for the knock-out. “Arrrghhhh, that’s so awful!” I don’t dwell on this because I know so many mothers and fathers who have lost a child and their grief is not less than mine because they have other children.

This coming Sunday is Mother’s Day. It’s a tough holiday for me. It’s tough because I miss my son’s physical presence. I miss his smile, hearing his laughter and spending time with him. The last time he was home was over Mother’s Day weekend. He was days away from deploying for the last time but snuck home for one last visit. He always gave me heartfelt cards - you know, the ones with a lengthy verse about what a wonderful mother I was. This time he found a card with a short verse and took the time to write a personal note to me.

The front of the card was a mother tucking her young child into bed and said, “A Special Mother.” The inside verse said,

“Happy Mother’s Day to my mother - who has brightened my heart
with lifetime memories of laughter, love, and a place called home.”

This is Ben’s personal note to me:

Mom,
I can’t thank you enough for everything you have done for me over the years. Especially the last 3 since I have been in the Army. You have stood behind me through every decision I have made and supported me since day 1. You always let me be who I wanted to be and never judged me for it, like most other people would. I know we sometimes disagree but know that sometimes I’m just a punk 21 year old with not enough freedom and a mad at the world attitude, so you know I don’t mean the shit I say and do. You are probably the best mom a guy could ask for and I love you to death for being the mom you are. Have a great Mother’s Day!!
Love, Ben
P.S. The world needs more moms like you!!

I suspect Ben knew he wasn’t coming home and wanted to share his heartfelt feelings with me. This is how I get to remember my son and how much he loved me and appreciated who I was to him. Who he may have become has no bearing on every living moment we had together. Those deeply personal thoughts from a “punk 21 year-old” are thoughts I know many mothers will never hear - not because their sons died, but because their living sons won’t ever share those feelings. The depth of the ocean is how deeply grateful I am that Ben lived and gave me such a wonderful card to cherish the rest of my life. I focus on this.

Ben’s life continues to give me life. I am fortunate to be called Mom by many and even grandma by a handful. These are the family that Ben gave to me. The family I have no blood relation to, but are all connected by the life of someone who still lives in our hearts. The death of a child does not mean the end of being a mother any more than dying means you stop having a name. My sister gave me a card for Mother’s Day a few years ago. The front of it said, “Being a mom is the best thing you can’t undo.” I still have it.

I don’t wonder who Ben would be today. I know who he is. He is my son and he always will be.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers reading this and to the fathers who have to play the role of mother too.