There was an unfamiliar sound coming from outside, I pulled back the curtains to take a peek, and noticed the big yellow school bus attempting to stop in front of our house. Its screeching breaks were the unfamiliar sound I had heard, and I watched as kids excitedly scrambled inside. “Ugh. So it’s today…”
First grade.
I should have a daughter in first grade. And for the first time, I let myself think about it. Last year, I vowed to avoid social media this time of year, because the hundreds of first day of school pictures were downright painful. I believe every mom should be proudly posting their growing kids, documenting this stage in life, but it’s just a little too much for me right now. And even though I successfully avoided the pictures, I hadn’t prepared to see the school bus.
As I watched that bus drive down the street, I thought about how a blonde little girl should be climbing on board, and riding to a new classroom, just blocks away from our new home. She should be surrounded by kids and a new teacher. And yet, nobody knows she is missing…except me. And that feeling is extremely lonely and heart wrenching. I completed my student teaching in first grade, so my thoughts then turned to what she would be learning, how she would be acting. I haven’t allowed myself to think like this in a long time, and grief got the better of me.
This morning my thoughts turned to the thousand of mom’s, whose hearts feel like mine. Each year we’re left wondering what would have been, or what could have been, and I want you to know you aren’t alone. That I’m thinking of your child today. And if it were possible, I would have loved to show up on your doorstep the very first day of school with two big blueberry muffins in hand. I would have loved to acknowledge what this day brings, and sit down with you to talk about our children. I would have loved to ask you questions about your angel, because I know how you long to speak about them, and remember them, because even though they aren’t here with us, they are still a huge part of our world. I know there would be a few tears spilled, and a few laughs as well. But most of all, as I was leaving, I wish I could give you a big hug, and say your child’s name, because we hear it so little these days, don’t we?
When grief wins, and the tears fall, I often think of the quote above. I long for the day us Angel Mom’s get to find out what a hundredfold really means.
Sending all my love on a difficult week.