Scott, My Beloved Son
March 16, 2020 - Scott’s Birthday
Scott happy. Today I cannot get the computer to load the photos I selected, this is the one that wants to be shared!
Today, March 16, 2020 is the day of your birth, my beloved son Scott. January 1, 2020 was the day of your death. Today I dedicate to celebrating your life. I am sharing at least some of this celebration with others. Your favourite candle holder is beside me, I have put in a fresh candle. This flame will remain alight until the substance of the candle disappears and the flame flickers out. Your insistence on keeping a candle constantly burning in this particular holder during our quiet days together through Christmas was unusual and mysterious to me. You just knew that this was vital to you and I felt your knowing. I went to the village to buy replacements, I bought all that they had and it is one of those that is burning beside me now.
Although on the surface your death was shockingly sudden, a heart attack the coroner ruled, I believe you were preparing, yourself and me. In your uniqueness of being, the veil between the multiple dimensions of realities was thinner than most. I ache in recognition of the torment this caused you, I am grateful for the times that you were able to express to me what you were experiencing which you said gave you some relief, and I am deeply sorrowful that I was helpless to provide you with the peace I so longed for you to experience.
You were born through me when I was fifteen years old, both of us having endured extraordinary turmoil. Bonded as only a mother and child can be, each startled at the newness of what had just unfolded, the journeys that lay ahead, together and individually, were unimaginable. In this moment, I am awash with emotion. A massive halo of vignettes of you is flashing into the foreground from every direction – all ages, stages, agonies and ecstasies, adventures and misadventures, passions and fears, joys and sorrows. As I lean back in my chair and look beyond the candle out the window at the clear blue sky through the stillness of the trees I hear your deep voice that I heard so frequently, whether in person or on the phone saying, matter-of-factly “I love you, Ma.” I see your clear blue eyes that shone with love. As ever I remain in awe of the purity of your loving.
Together on Gabriola Island. Scott in his coca-cola shorts, Jeff on my other side, Scott's Cadillac in the background. This is the only other photo that my computer would allow me to load today!
Today is your 58th birthday. Oh my dear Scott, you navigated through the loss of so many of your loved ones over the years. Too many to acknowledge now. Your early loss of father, due to violence and fear. Then abandonment. The loss of ongoing connection with your own children -- loving was present however the absence of being fathered combined with the impact of what was diagnosed as your illness became overwhelming for you. The death in 2010 of your beloved Dianne that you shared your life with for twenty-two years. The death of your younger brother Jeff, when he was only 30. You kept them present in your heart, photos were important to have close. You often spoke of Jeff and Dianne, sharing memories of simple, special moments. I was deeply moved when you would show me the shelves of precious objects you regularly arranged and rearranged in memory of each of them.
Now both you and Jeff have died before me. Seeing this in print on my computer screen is rattling my core.
When your brother died I remember saying I could live through anything, but not that. And I did, here I am. I was aware that your health was deteriorating, I spoke of my fear of your passing before me however the reality of that actually happening was beyond my comprehension. And now you have died before me and I do not fully comprehend. Your presence remains in my bones, my cells, my heart, my environment. Over and over again I see something, hear something, taste or touch something, smell something, have a thought and then startle with the yet-again new recognition that you are no longer alive in the familiar way. No more grocery shopping, shopping for gifts and treasures, doing laundry, ordering pizza or poutine, almost daily short and long phone calls, going to the bank, car rides, car washes, getting gas, doing errands, going to the doctor’s office, feeding the birds, talking with your fish, lugging firewood, visits with each other and . . . and . . . and . . .
Since your brother died I have felt a tender territory in my heart for all mothers whose children have died. I know I am not alone in being a mother who has had a child die, or more than one child die, or all their children die. Your death has amplified that.
Honestly, I don’t know how or what I feel. At times I may identify my feelings and yet there are more times when my feelings are beyond identification. And that is ok with me.
Trying to apply a noun to an ineffable experience is just one more way to circumvent life's flow.
If I could transcend my body right now and not disintegrate from the force, I would hurl a mighty howl of grieving and loving reverberating across this planet that would collectively rip open hearts and minds and knock us all awake to what really matters. I am wailing, I am howling, I am raging, I am loving, I am.
For beloved Scott:
May the long-time sun
Shine upon you
All love surround you
And the pure light
Within you
Guide your way on
Guide your way on
Lyrics from Snatam Kaur’s Long Time Sun