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
Very well said. Very.
I am so glad you didn’t use this opportunity to focus on the negative that has taken place.
This is the time – as you said – that everyone has rallied together… even those, like myself, who didn’t know Shellie before. As a mom blogger, I followed her on Twitter but don’t believe we had ever spoken. But even so, I cried for her. My heart bled for her family. My stomach turned imagining her pain.
Most Wordless Wednesdays were dedicated to honoring Bryson’s memory – and celebrating his life.
We are a community. We are a family. We don’t always agree. We don’t look the same, we don’t even all know one another… but when it counts, we come together and we make one another stronger. Beautiful post.
*hugs*
This is excellent and so sums up what I have been feeling! My daughter too quickly got away from me at a store and hid in the clothing racks so I can so relate to what you said about your child doing that. I have a friend whose child from the time she was 2 could get out of the house no matter what they did. My boyfriend went over and installed lock after lock on their doors (way up at the top of the doors…the girl found ever more creative and more dangerous ways to reach the locks and always managed to get out before anyone woke up). Her mother tried everything short of tying the child down in her bed (and who wouldn’t have jumped all over that right?) and I do mean EVERYTHING and to be honest until I was there to witness it all myself and to see just how hard the mom was trying, I even had little doubts in the back of my mind- you know, the judgemental “what kind of mother can’t keep her kid in the house” kind of thing. Thank God, I stopped doing that when I realized how simple it is for all of us to be faced with such a situation, how we can’t place our children in bubbles and so they are going to encounter dangers and we can only do what we can do. We are human. We are parents and we love our children and we do our best. I am praying for Shellie and her family. ps – I have been away from my job as teacher for several years due to a medical disability so I too live much of my life online. If my child were in danger, if something had happened to her, I can guarantee you I would be online asking for prayers too. That’s where many of my friends are and I would desperately need their support. I would NEED to read their words and to know that those many many prayers were being said. What is so wrong with that and who are we to judge how someone deals with their own grief?
Well said Trisha!
Well written, as usual. Excellent thoughts to ponder. Thanks, Trisha.
Wonderfully said.
very well said! I am proud to be a part of a community nay an online family that can come together when one of our own is hurting and needs us! Baa
Great post, very well said!
Very well expressed. All of us have thought back, over these past few days, about times when or beloved children could have been snatched from our lives, or seriously injured.
A great post Trisha as always ! There are many times I can think things like this has happened to me and my children .
Wow Trisha. I think that is one of the most eloquent things you have ever written. I think you hit it right on the head and it makes me reflect back to the times that my little boys have been gone in the blink of an eye when I turned my head.
I also think you are so right about online communities. Most of my friends I have online I have never met, but I wouldn’t bat an eye to ask for help or look towards in a time of grieving. Thank you for writing this.
Very well said as always Trisha… no one could have said it any better!
Beautifully put, brought tears. Hugs and God bless.
If it were possible to give you a standing ovation for this I would in a microsecond!
Every single word you said rings so true in all of us right down to the moments where without devine intervention we could have all very easily been standing in Shellie’s shoes! Some of the events that have unfolded since Monday have made me truly ashamed of the human race and the ability of some to be so hateful and heartless, but you are completely correct in saying that when we all look back it will be with adoration for those who selflessly and without a second thought were there offering their time, support, and love for one of our own!
I don’t think any of us could have said this any better!
So very, very true. Great post!
Nicely said.
Tears in my eyes and a thank you for being there for us.
That was a lovely post.
Thank you Trisha no one is perfect… we all have our accidents. It just plan sucks that some people can’t get over it and move on. Thank you again for writing the post.
So verry well said, I have nothing to add… just thank you.