Wishing on Stars

Aaron's Make a Wish star

Dear Aaron,

It's happening again, without warning. 

The waves come: relentless, overwhelming, drowning, shattering.

Last week I read a book with a client, not a new book. I read it years ago and again recently. It's a middle-grades book about a family whose mom has died and that's not even the focus of the story. But the younger boy discovers that his baseball mitt will pull meteorites from the sky. He is out in the middle of the field, in the middle of the night, wishing on the falling stars. 

"They're falling for a reason, and I know why. To make the wish come true. To bring Mom back." (Tesla's Attic. p 164)

And I actually got through that just fine. A twinge, but no more. I was at work and I compartmentalize really well, kinda have to. And Danny's Mom doesn't come back.

Then Saturday, Linnaea brought me "Ten Wishing Stars" a bedtime countdown book for toddlers. Each sheep makes a different wish and goes to sleep with their dreams coming true... 

And oh, I wanted to wish upon a star that would make mine come true.  I could feel Danny's anguish as he pulled chunk after chunk of burning metal and rock from the sky, wishing and hoping and praying that his mom would come back. And if I thought there was a way to reverse time, go back to when you were still here, I'd be out in the middle of a field right now doing the same thing. 

I ache so bad right now. Sometimes the pain is just a dull ache in my bones, in my soul, barely there, easily brushed aside. And sometimes a giant fist grabs my own heart and lungs and squeezes until I can hardly breathe. 

Sometimes you seem like a dream, a ghost of a lifetime, hidden in the mists. And sometimes as I wake in the morning, I hear the echoes of your machines and forget you're not here anymore.  Only silence.

Two more days until the anniversary of that ultrasound, the one where we learned so much about your challenges. Another "before and after." Before I had no idea, couldn't even imagine what was coming.  After, some of my innocence had been ripped away. But it only foreshadowed what would come 13 years later.

Oh, I miss you so much.

And even though I know wishing on a star won't bring you back, and for your sake I guess I wouldn't want to, I still wish... 

You were done. Your spirit so strong, your body so frail. It held on longer than we had any right to expect or hope for. 

I love you.

Love,
Mama

"Love doth make stars to shine

In the gray, grieving skies of care."

~Julia Cooley Altrocchi