With tragedy often comes triumph

There was once a time when Charlotte was 2.5 years old that I looked outside from an upstairs window to see her halfway down the backyard sidewalk heading to a parking lot off the side of our base housing.

Adults were passing her by.

No one stopped her wondering why a child of her age wasn’t flanked by a running mother. She had nearly reached that parking lot by the time I got down the stairs and out the door myself, running as fast as my bare feet could take me.

There was once a time I woke up, by the grace of God only, to find Charlotte having snuck out of the house before our family had even woken, to stare into the pool.

“Just looking” was what she said.

There was once a time that Charlotte ran off in Walmart and ducked through an aisle like only little legs can and was off and gone, her father having to finally admit defeat and call a Code Adam till she was found, in a different part of the store, hiding in clothing racks.

All of these moments, and many more like it, have been the trials of raising a child that only threatens to get bigger by the minute.  And as she becomes more and more confident,  in many ways I have to balance her impending freedom and growth with my natural instinct to hover and protect.

They say a mothers heart is always walking outside her body in her children.

I understand.

On Monday when we all learned the news of a friend and fellow bloggers worst nightmare, things stopped. The silence of disbelief held only for a second to allow for reflection before it scattered away to make room for support. The moments of our own children became that much more noticeable, the moments where it could have been one of us and indeed was partly one of us.

Many don’t understand. If the blogosphere is a family, the mom bloggers are  the heart. We live and breath with emotion and passion and creativity.

We hate and love each other in one fail swoop.

And yes, sometimes we are a broken family. We spend reunions with our own tribe.  Some of us are guilty of judging, of making quick reactions, of not going out beyond our own virtual doorsteps. I spend more time as the red headed step child then the matriarch, but I embrace my roll as the small part of what I choose to share.  Yet even I, as much hot water as I tend to boil, would never be so self righteous as to attack, presume, or intentionally antagonize a grieving family. The key to publicity, negative or otherwise, is to have a point.

But there will never be a point here, will there?

There is no race to be won, no goal to be reached, no high five at the end of the day. There will never be a time that you crack open a beer and toast to a battle fighting that has had a conclusion. There are no sides to take. There isn’t a rally or boycott to begin.

This isn’t the “PR Blackout.”

This is life.

There is a child that will never grow up. A mother that will never get the joy of watching him walk down the aisle and marry. And all the years from this moment on will be filled with what ifs and how it would have been.

I live online. I work online. My friendships are online. They always have been. As a former military spouse, I was rarely planted long enough to gain friendships that didn’t turn into myspace comments or sharing pictures and emails online.

My best friend lives in Tampa. My husbands best friend lives in Texas.

As an adult, relationships and friendships don’t come easily. I would be lying if I said they ever did. I have kids to watch, crafts to make, a business to run, a husband to care for, and a house to maintain.

But the relationships I have, even if virtual, are no less valid despite not being neighbors in the same city. In fact, my distant relationships are stronger then my local relationships. I can go weeks without seeing a neighbor. In contrast, I make valiant effort to pick up the phone, to send an email, to plan vacations together, to send gifts and mail to the ones that are not near me.

Those are relationships I maintain.

Those are people I love.

I have 100s of people I would call friends and thousands acquaintances. And while I have surely been wrong in some occasions, online or offline, the fact is I am a digital mom and there are millions like me. I share my life, the good, the bad, and the weird, with complete strangers day in and day out.

I make no apologies for it.

Sometimes it leaves me exhausted and ready to throw in the towel, but other times it leaves me awe inspired and renewed.

Can I tell you a secret? I don’t think Anissa likes me. No, really. We used to talk in email all the time. We had even at one point planned a room at BlogHer together. Something happened. She even got on my ass about an article I wrote (ok, who hasn’t, bad example). But you know what? When she had a stroke, I jumped.

I didn’t think back and start picking apart our relationship or wondering if I should be there. I just was. And so was everyone else. There were no time for judgements, for regrets, for questions. I only hope that some day we get the chance to repair our relationship.

That is what a family does.

With tragedy often comes triumph.

Recently a mom blogger told me that Shellie was blessed to have me in her life. I responded that it wasn’t her that was blessed, it was me for knowing her.

I will look back on this week the rest of my life, not with thoughts of criticism of one lone stranger whose unkind words will forever be immortalized as an embarrassment to her true character, but with the rally of a community that may not always agree, but will always be a unison voice for those in need.

~Trisha