I have always hated the month of March because of the kind of weather that it brings throughout the entire 31 days. Not until March 6, 2009 did it become even more hated. I am glad to see it go. I do not mourn the passing of March. Good riddance to the high winds, to the torrential rains, the overwhelming floods, the violent eruption of tornadoes, to the 6th day that has come again seven times and will come around again every year until I die. I hate you. I am angry at you forever. I shake my clenched fists at you and dare you to breathe your angry blustery breath at me again. Your wrathful wind blew through my life and took a most wonderful sweet child who was so good and kind. You stole my one and only blonde haired, blue-eyed, “baby” boy. My Brandon. I see April 1st as not only a practical joke day but a day that laughs at March’s passing…no mourning for March. You are a thief…a murderer. There is no room in my heart for a month like you. Your name is just what it says…you march in…you march out…not caring what you have left behind.
I am empty as I look towards the months listed on my calendar. I wonder what to fill the void with…what do I write in the squared white spaces that represent time and plans? Yes, I have a family still here who deserve my love and time but they don’t know that in my heart is a place nothing or no one can fill. The month of March ripped that hole to where it can never be patched except by my own death. The tattered rim is unpatchable. And while I may smile and laugh and still exist…there is no way to explain the duality of my life now.
I know that Jesus is with me through this very sad and painful process. Yet, I am not spared the feelings that come to me as a grieving mother. It comes like the very weather promised to me by the month of March that heralds in the spring with its violent announcement of unruly wind and downpour of rain. “I am HERE” it shouts with a vengeance. It ravages my heart…and I can barely stand against its strength and disregard for me. I am uneasy in the aftermath of its rage. I feel as if I am that tiny sparrow sitting perilously on a fragile branch all the while knowing there is something bigger than me who must be watching….caring. The terrain where my happiness once stood is now just a hollow with displaced remnants of my before life. I stand in the puddles that have yet to dry. I am knee deep in the muddiness that keeps me stuck. I don’t know what month to wish for anymore because they all are cloaked in a sadness that I have never felt before my son left my life.
My prayers are questions that have no real answers about what I am feeling. I ask for God’s forgiveness for my anger…for my bitter asking…for my hatred of one of the months that brings all those elements designed to sustain life..new life…spring life…green life…blossoms and fragrance…instead for me it is a mix of life and death. I know that it also meant the same for Jesus Christ…life…eternal life…victory over death….for not only Him but for all who are His…my son…me…my family….so many friends and family…and strangers who are my brothers and sisters. I should be glad to overflowing with a new love for this month that seems ruinous with its presence. I ask God to help me through the spring into all other months that have purpose in His grand design of life and love.
While my crying and utter sorrow can come unexpectedly on some days, I am most thankful for the peace that has been given me about my son in his new residence with God. I miss my Brandon so very, very much. I am sick to my stomach when I realize that I cannot hear his soft and kind voice again…..(gasping, gut-wrenching pain has interrupted my writing…such a sadness…in a song…
Again, to show how “things unexpected” bring about pain…devastating pain…as I write my post this day I am listening to Pandora radio. A song that I chose for Brandon’s memorial has begun…accompaniment to my sorrow. Like it has been scripted…..
“Cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind. Take me to a place so holy that I can wash this from my mind..the memory of choosing not to fight….cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind.” Answer by Sara McLachan
It would seem that pain and peace cannot co-exist but it does. For my heart to be so ripped and broken…I have a peace that is beyond my capacity to understand. It is just the way it is. My prayers have to change to be more about acceptance that to constantly be challenging what has happened and cannot be changed. I cannot change that Brandon has died by a bullet to his head…by his hands or someone else…..if I challenge it will it bring him back? Will hating the month of March bring me solace? No, but somehow I have to have a way out with this blame that has gone nowhere. I have to hit March with the only power that has been given me………forgive me March but you have been unkind.