Happy Mother's Day

Today I attended a Mother's Day luncheon at my son’s school. It was at a beautiful home with a lot of lovely, excited mothers. We were happy, we were there for our sons.

The food was delicious, the surprise gifts were luxurious. A champagne in the middle of the day? Ooh, yes please!!

Then the speeches started. Our principal made a beautiful and intelligent speech about the importance of connection with our teens, even when they push you away. Boy, did we all relate to that! She drew upon lots of research, like the good educator she is. Did we know that to trigger the oxytocin release in our brains, a hug needs to last at least 20 seconds? We all laughed, me too, until I wasn’t laughing.

I was crying.

The more I tried to suck the sobs in, conscious of the scene I was making, the more they forced their way out.

What I wouldn’t give for one 20 second hug. Anything, I’d give anything.

These women were laughing, confident in the fact that they would be hugging their son tonight, imagining the fun conversations about the hug’s length. They had no idea, why should they.  

Then the school captains spoke. The school’s best, and gosh, what amazing, eloquent, sensitive, smart young men they were. Impressive. They told stories of their relationship with their mothers, what they valued, what they had learnt. It was very touching.

Manny had been like them. He gave speeches. Polished, confident speeches. Then he played a solo with the orchestra, and of all the departing Year 12s, he was the one they chose to hoist up high for the photos. Another example of the school’s success. Until he wasn’t.

I tried to be happy for these shiny men, I asked about their studies, their dreams, their interests. You see, they had futures. But underneath my solicitous interest was a seething jealousy, a rage at the injustice. My Manny deserved to have what they had. He did NOT deserve to die. And I did NOT deserve this pain.

And yet I listened to them telling me about how their mum was always in their corner, non-judgemental. Jesus, could I tell them a thing or two about being in someone’s corner! I told Manny I loved him every day in many ways. I showed him. I gave everything I could. These people were talking Hallmark – love could solve everything. Yes, the hours at sports fields, music lessons, and  homework are a lot. What about sitting up until 2am helping a very caffeinated, wired son cook, to ease the inner demons of his eating disorder? Then getting up 4 ½ hours later to go to work. Again and again and again. What about washing the bloodied bandages he used to hide his cutting? In a sensitive, non-judgemental, supportive, open-to-discussion way?

I envied these women.

The afternoon was topped off by the choir singing our song, the one Manny asked to sing with me when he was feeling a bit vulnerable.

Hallelujah, today was a lovely day.