If you see my mother today, be kind.
She has gone through the worst kind of hell you see, the unimaginable heartbreak of losing a child. Two children, actually.
In addition, she has suffered the shame and shunning that comes from people who don’t understand, people who think it is her fault. People who think she must not deserve her children. Don’t be one of those people.
If you find my mother hiding, be kind. If you notice her heart is shielded, be kind.
Know that things are not always as they seem. Know that a parent without her child may be good and are now broken, and undeserving of such cruelty.
You may see my mother in the grocery store, on the street, in the school or at work. She may be in the face of a dad, without his children, of a young mother, childless. You may be his friend, neighbor, brother, acquaintance.
Know that you may not know. You may not know the truth, her heart, his heart, the tragedy that may have unfolded. You may not know the heartbreak and the horror of what they have gone through. Know that you may not know.
When you see my mother, even if she has downcast eyes or a protected heart, be kind.
If she is hiding or alone or hesitant to see you, see her anyway.
Know that you may not know. Consider that she has been broken in the worst possible way.
Consider that she may never heal from what has been taken from her.
She may not be able to love again with a full heart, because her heart has been shattered.
Love her anyway.