Babies dying...
Babies dying.
Mothers crying.
When does it end?
The world has fallen out of order.
The world has been pushed out of order.
Unseen reasons lie behind empty-armed mothers.
When does it ever end?
In this human capsule we hold so dear to another human form.
We say: He’s my life! I gave him life!
Didn’t I?
When did I learn I was separate from you?
When did I learn to fear your departure?
Breathing for only one now.
Making decisions for myself only.
Cleaning up after no one but myself.
I’d rather clean up after you;
Your empty drink cups,
The disposable plastic cups that somehow entertained you for hours…they
were blue. I remember.
The dried fruit cocktail I had to use a knife to scrape off the floor…
At this very moment, a mother is hearing her child is dead.
What a waste.
What a failure!
That was my only job! I loved that job!
It was hard but I was complete, I was whole!!
You son-of-a-bitch!!!!
Who did this? I want names, addresses, phone numbers!!
If I can’t slap God Himself across the face I’m going to do
whatever I can here on this earth!
I want justice!
I want revenge!
I want Them to endure this pain for the rest of their lives-like I have
to!!
I want to punish Them!!
In the end…Do I?
Do I ever punish anyone more cruelly, more severely, than I did myself?
No.
I was the Mom!
My one and only job was to keep him safe!
What a failure.
Failure. What a permanently hopeless word.
But what did I really fail at?
Not having ESP? or a premonition?
Not seeing the future in my crystal ball?
Did I fail at not seeing the signs? Or not paying attention to them?
Or is the truth really that I am failing now?
Am I failing him now?
Yes, I am alive.
And although I cannot yet say I am grateful I survived, I did.
I am here.
Blake is not.
Not in a way I can see him with my eyes,
feel his hand wrapped around my finger,
play with his earlobe between my lips,
or take a long deep breath of him.
Blake is here in his way.
I must learn to see him with another kind of eyes.
I see him in the hummingbird that flies close and stares back at me.
I see him in the powerful thunderclouds that race across the sky.
I see him often in the brilliant, pink sunsets. The ones that take your
breath away.
I see him staring back at me every night through the holes in the sky
we call stars.
He gives me the strength of an army every time I am consoling a fellow
grieving mother.
And every time I tell his story, I inspire one more person to be more
careful in the deadly weapons we call cars.
To take a little longer before proceeding through an intersection.
And to Never, Ever run through a red light.
If nothing else, I hope Blake and I are teaching parents to tuck their
children in a little tighter, and to give them an extra kiss good-night.
With every breath I take, I am created anew.
With this breath, I choose to live.
With this voice, I share my son with you.
With this laugh, Blake is laughing as well.
I will not fail Blake.
I will Live.
I will change the World.
I will live.
I will live.
I will live.
For C. Blake Cash
September 12, 1998 to February 18, 2000
Author Biography
Katie is Blake's mom, Director
of Operations for the MISS Foundation, Secretary for REDmeansSTOP.org,
a damn fine poet, and much, much more than any one label can say!
