Robot

I've said it many, many times before, that for me it's not 'the' day that's hard, it's the day before.  Zapped of energy, pained and sickly, I struggle to pinpoint what's wrong with me ...until I finally realize grief has overtaken and forced my life to slow waaaay down, has forced me to rest in the midst of swirling pain and yearning.  I miss Phoebe, plain and simple. 
Mother's Day is another Hallmark holiday that demands attention.  And like every other holiday, we are bombarded with images of joy and reunion ...bliss.  For many, those images are as far away as the moon.  Life hasn't delivered pre-packaged perfection.  People strain to spend time together, or they have no mother now to spend time with, or their children are far away or disinterested ...any number of scenarios.  For sure, many people find moments at least to recognize their mothers and their own mothering.  It's really a fascinating web of real life that is so far away from the depictions that fire at us in sight and sound.
For me, I get to be surrounded by six of my cherubs, and each in their own way makes this day special. And I am grateful for the coupons, the cake, the gifts, the hugs, the breakfast ...the sweet little reminders that I am their mom.  On this day, in this moment, I am indeed the best mom in the world.
But ...something is awry, something is wrong, someone is missing.  And I am overwhelmed by the great missing of my girl.
But God knows, and God hears.  Mother's Day for me is so much about the Blessed Mother.  I've had a devotion to her for a long time now.  I've been a bit miffed at her for a few years now, I tell her, she listens, chides me from time to time ...but always, always she remains.  Some would call me delusional to suggest that I live with the presence of our Savior's mother.  That's okay.  Since I raised my eyes to her many, many years ago, she has not lost sight of me.  And I am grateful.  I beg her daily to squeeze Phoebe tight.  Not a snuggler, Phoebe would appreciate a firm squeeze or a foot fight over a warm embrace.  And so I can imagine Blessed Mother hugging Phoebe hard and Phoebe laughing as she wriggles her way out.  The Blessed Mother is a constant ...my intercessor.
I sit in Mass on this day and begin my prayer in this church I love.  It is in this space I find Phoebe most, sense her watching and comforting, encouraging me to go forward ...towards her, towards Him. 
We all kneel and listen to those recent souls departed ....and pray for them.  And her name is read.  Unexpected, unasked.  Her name is spoken ....her beautiful name is remembered here in this space.  And that is my gift ...to hear her name spoken, so that I am startled and for a moment, breathless.  Yes, Phoebe lived and people remember her ...people remember to pray for her.  A wink, a gift ...something that keeps the thread between Heaven and earth palpable for this sorrowful mother.  And I am grateful.
Today I listen to the news in the car.  A robot has been lost at sea, imploded six miles deep.  It's been overseen by a scientific center not far from here.  One of the scientists was interviewed and one response was "I feel as though I've lost a child, the robot really became part of my life."  I almost ran into a tree.  The surge of anger that raced through my veins surprised me.  I wanted to contact the center, the radio station, stand with a bullhorn.  Hours later I've calmed down, but still, the ignorance of that statement astounds me.  It reminds me of some comments I've received over the years that make the heart sink.  Absolute insensitivity where people might equate a bad marriage or a lost job with the loss of a child.  And truly, did this scientist intentionally draw the parallel, or try to hurt anyone, try to equate her loss of this robot with a parent's loss of a child.  I don't think so, but you never know. 
But I'd like to ask her, after losing her robot, six miles deep in the ocean that provided a constant flow of data, revealing deeply held secrets of the ocean, a few questions.  Did the robot ever keep you up at night?  Did the robot ever throw up on you, or pee in your bed?  Did the robot ever talk back, tell you how little you actually knew?  Did the robot ever get picked on?  Or pick on someone else?  Ever slam a door when it didn't get its way? Ever lie to you?  Ever keep you up late at night worried?  Did your robot ever take the fall so their friends could look pure and innocent still?  Did your robot ever hold its face to the wind and ask you to join it?  Did the robot ever try on sneakers in the store and then ask to run the aisle to make sure they helped it run faster and then ask if you could believe how much faster it ran?  Did the robot ever look down on another little robot and giggle or tickle ...or cry?  Did the robot ever ask you to be the horse so it could ride through the house on your back? Did the robot ever refuse to eat anything healthy for a week or more?  Did the robot tell you they loved you?
When we lose a child we lose the good ...and the bad ...only to realize the bad was actually good!
Assuming to know the loss of a child is fruitless ....unless you have.  I have six other kids to buzz around me, demand my attention, insult me, hug me, steal my makeup, tell me I'm the nicest mom in the world, tell me I'm the meanest mom in the world ....I still get to be 'mommy.'
But so many moms lost their one and only ...or onlies.  And so many moms have no one or no where to go on mother's day.  I wonder how they'd compare the loss of a child to the loss of a robot.  Likely it would cut deeper to hear such a thing.  But truthfully, they have or will become accustomed to comments like this.
And all the while, the greatest, most perfect mother of all, the Blessed Mother, will hug them tight too.  Who else knows the loss better than ourselves?
Pray for all the forgotten moms, please.