Kiss Goodbye

Today, I was driving along and thought of my last touch, hug, and physical connection to my daughter. I cannot say what triggered it, possibly nothing, no reason needed, no way to explain it. This was one of those days where I longed for her smell, the feel of her skin, the strength of her hand, the compassion of her heart, her "I love you, mom"'s, her cheek on mine, my lips on her cheek, her forehead, her shoulder, wherever it landed. I need to feel her today. My body is screaming with the need and desire to touch my child. It is something we can take for granted, I'm sure I did, the swiftness of the hug, especially when they were babies and we longed for our own sleep, or when they were growing up, or moving along into their teens, their twenties, their thirties....I doubt it ever ends. But then one day, it does, or it can. In those moments I stop and thank God for the time I DID have, but when the ache of loss and loneliness creeps up, there seems to be no reprieve. No reprieve at all from the need to touch my child. I have had people actually tell me things like, "well, at least you have another child", or, "maybe you can put the same energy into Jennifer", or "do you know how lucky you are to have another daughter". I would like to scream at times, and say, don't you know I know that, don't you know how thankful I am each and every minute of the day that God has kept another child of mine living to this point, don't you know my relationship with Allison was different, no, not better, not worse, just different, and don't you know that I cannot put all my hopes and dreams into Jennifer and smother her...she has to be her own person. She cannot live for two. She has to live for herself. And that part is hard enough to watch, knowing that in an instant she became an only child, never to have a sister to share the natural course of life's journey with any longer. Don't you know, people, that it doesn't matter if I had one child, five, ten, or NONE, I still long to touch my Allie. What came back to me, this morning, was OUR last moments. Anyone who knows my heart at all, knows that I am eternally grateful that we were part of her final months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. Simply and gloriously grateful. My circle has widened so large to include many mothers, and fathers, who were not given that opportunity. Cancer DOES give, at times. And in this case, what better gift could any of us receive, or her, as well, than to be together in the name of love and family. But, it's still those last moments that sometimes come into my soul, heart, mind. And today, I was actually thinking of that last, good-bye kiss, when on the radio I heard a song about a kiss goodbye. Thankful for SHAZAM, I pressed it on my iphone and found the title to be Kiss Goodbye, by Little Big Town. I don't know what, or who, the lyrics were written for, no doubt a man, a woman, maybe not death at all, but all I know, that in that moment, I wasn't sure whether to feel elated, cry, feel sorry for myself, or what. I wanted her back. I want it all back. And I want to kiss her goodbye again. Sometimes, we can ache beyond description. The loss we feel as a mother, or father, and any other grieving person, has to be part of life's most challenging journeys. We not only lose them, the physical presence, but we lose a part of ourselves, we rebuild, or not, we respond, or not, we recoil, we live, we breathe, we get from point A to point B, week to week, month to month, year to year, having no idea how we did so. We go on. We hold on to the part of life that brings us reason to live, another child, a grandchild, a spouse, a job, a purpose, a mission, a cause. Whatever it is, we find our way, and we certainly do it our way. I cannot begin to know how the young mothers who have known their child an hour, a day, a week, a month, a few years do it. I don't know what would be worse, there is no reason to compare. Nothing prepares us for this part of life. Some days we are "okay", we manage, we even soar, others, like today, it's an uphill climb, it's treading water, it's lonely and dark, and bleak and despair can overtake me if I let it. Today, the kiss goodbye has saddened me, but it has strengthened me, too. And while I want another, I am grateful, so grateful that my heart knows the fullness of gratitude and God's grace. And when I close my eyes and let it go, I feel the brush of her lips on my cheek, the hand that held mine, and the love between mother and child that death does not part.