No-one dared wish this mother
A happy Mother’s Day
Her son had died the year before
They didn’t know what to say.
The silence cut her to her soul
The hurt too hard to tell
For though her son was not alive
She was a mother still.
“I bore a child”, she cried to me
“Raised him to twenty two
Death doesn’t change that fact, you know
I am a mother too.”
I choked back tears and hugged her tight
Willing her pain subside
And wondered what I would have done
If I’d been by her side.
Would I have braved discomfort then
And found the right way through
Or would I have, like all the rest
Just not known what to do?
Dedicated to my dear friend C., and all bereaved mothers.
61 thoughts on “A Mother Still”
This leaves me kind of speechless. So sad, so thought provoking. I think Mother’s Day can be hard for lots of people . . .
Sure can, Kerry. Thanks for your comments.
Hits home. Am I still a mother is a question I struggle with.
Oh, yes, you are! … May Love go with you on your journey.
Great response to Diane, Aggie. Thank you.
My heart goes out to your friend, and all who have lost children. My husband had a sister who died before he was born. She was an only child at the time, and was six years old when she ran into the street after a ball, and was hit by a truck. His mother still feels the pain. The love never dies.
Oh, what a tragedy that must have been. So sad. You’re so right: a mother’s love never dies Thanks, Lavinia, for your reply.
What a deeply touching poem. Love never ends or dies, and yes, mother is a mother regardless of anything.
Well said. Mother is mother.
What a kind and compassionate post Cynthia. I’m sorry for your friend and grateful that she has a friend like you.
Thanks, Brad. I think she has several friends, but friends don’t always know what to do in such painful circumstances.
I understand Cynthia. Sometimes just listening or being present can help. May your friend find healing and peace.
Oh Cynthia, what a kind and thoughtful tribute, and bless you for pointing this out! I needed to realize that a mother would feel this way because I would be afraid to wish a bereaved mother “Happy Mother’s Day.” I have a friend whose son drowned at age 23, and this does hit home. Thank you so much for sharing, and I hope you had a lovely Mother’s Day!
Thank you, Denise, and you’re welcome. I hope your Mother’s Day was lovely.
Wow Cynthia this is emotionally deep writing – a beautiful message.
Cynthia, you are kind and gracious. I have a close relative who lost their only child a few years ago, and I can’t imagine how heartbreaking that must have been–and still is. My heart aches whenever I see someone who reminds me of my late niece.
Blessings ~ Wendy ❀
Heartbreaking indeed, Wendy. I’m so sad to hear that. There are so many different sources and kinds of pain in this world. We really have to be considerate of each other.
Such a touching and heart wrenching poem! Beautiful piece. Tina
Thanks, Tina. The poem was written a couple years ago but I held on to it till the time felt right.
I think if you have a child you’re a mom (or dad) forever.
That is kind of heartbreaking. I wish her a belated Happy Mother’s Day.
Thank you for that. Me too.
To all of you who have made the fearless leap across the continent of the human heart, here is the bright side: My life is far, far, far richer for having had my boy for those few years than never to have known him at all. I focus on that, on the good, as do others who have experienced great trauma. Cynthia, your poem struck a chord. A holy chord. Perhaps a dominant seventh.
Thank you for this beautiful reply, Diane. It is uplifting and reassuring.
Cynthia, this is a very moving poem, my heart goes out to your friend, I can’t imagine a deeper sadness.
I’ve heard there is no deeper sadness than the loss of a child, and I think that may well be true. Thank you, Julie.
So poignant and something I suspect most of us never consider.
Actually, I think you’re right about that Andrea. Sometimes we have to hear someone else’s story up close to even think about these things.
I could feel the tears pricking reading this. How very very sad. I do so feel for your friend.
‘Twas so for me when I wrote it too, Julie. I wrote it nearly two years ago and never published it – it made me feel like crying for my friend every time I even saw it. And then the time came to post it.
Quelle douce sollicitude à l’égard de ceux qui souffrent. Savoir écouter et entendre la tristesse d’autrui est un art dans lequel tu excelles, je crois 😉
Merci beaucoup, chere Christiane. J’essaie d’écouter. Je vous souhaite une bonne semaine.
Beautifully written and thought-provoking.
My heart goes out to your friend, and I cannot even begin to imagine the depth of her pain and sadness.
It must be one of the toughest sorrows known to humans. My heart goes out to her too. Thanks for your kind reply.
You are a good friend indeed. I am so sorry for your friend’s loss.
Me too, Lori. Thank you.
It is so difficult to find the right words to say in situations like this. We often miss opportunities by waiting for the right moment. My ex-father-in-law died in his early fifties. I was close to his mother (my ex-husband’s grandmother) and she said that it felt so wrong to have your children die before you did. Close friends from church lost their son four years ago and they said the same.
I believe that once a parent, always a parent. One might not wish someone ‘happy’ mother’s day but ‘Thinking of you on Mother’s Day’ is appropriate I think.
You have written another wonderfully thoughtful poem, Cynthia. I think the suffering you have experienced has made you more attuned to others’ pain.
“Thinking of you on Mother’s Day’ is perfect, Clare. thanks for a reply that’s vintage Clare in its thoughtfulness.
You are so kind, thank-you.
What a deeply touching poem! Thanks for sharing.
You are welcome, Cecilia. And thank you!
Hi Cynthia, this poem made me cry. It’s so beautifully written. It’s sad and thought-provoking. How to comfort a mother who has lost her child? I can’t imagine the depth of her pain and sorrow. The bell-like flower you asked me about is called hyacinth.
Thanks, Christa. It is a very moving situation. (but sorry to make you cry.)
Thank you for this blog Cynthia. I recently lost my mother after her 7 yrs in palliative care. I’m grateful for the privilege to have been at her side, during the night as she woke intermittently, seemingly following spirits in the room, holding her hand as she took her last breathe in the morning during a beautiful prayer. Her memorial was a wonderful celebration of her life and how she made an impact on so many from her children to great-grandchildren, cousins, friends and neighbours I had never met until then 🙂
My warm condolences, Ann. I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s death. Her final moments and the celebration of her life sound wondrous. It sounds like she touched many with her deeds.
Ah, what to say? I wish your friend well as she continues on her journey, and hope that she reaches the place where memory is more joy than sorrow.
And I thank you for thinking of her and of others in such circumstances and taking the time to couch those thoughts in beautiful words.
And I would like to say a word for those who love those mothers, their partners and their own mothers and fathers, who feel the pain of their own loss and their children’s, and the family around them that the loss echoes through. And wish for all of them, as well, the time when remembering holds more pleasure than pain.
Thank you, Margaret, for these lovely, kind words. So good of you to respond in this way.
This is just lovely, Cynthia, and perhaps the best way of all to assure your friend that she is still a mother. Once a mother, always a mother. I truly feel for those who have lost their children — at any age. But I have to believe that there are reasons why loved ones come into our lives and leave far before their time; we just may never know.
That was so beautiful. And you are right, once you give birth, you never stop being a mother. ❤
Amen to that, Jackie! Wishing you all good things.
A very touching and heartfelt piece. You have written something special, Cynthia.
How kind of you to say so, Beem. Thank you.
This made me cry…really. Hope everything is going well in your world! ♡
Thanks for the comment, Lorrie and for asking. We give thanks every day for all blessings.
Thank you Cynthia – meant so much. I lost a son but give thanks daily for having known him and much gratitude for the son still with me.
I’m pleased that you appreciate this. What a lovely note, filled with gratitude, despite the pain you obviously came through. Bless you, my friend.