-post card- a lesson this mother learned

I am a mother of dead children, how exactly does a woman do that; be a parent to children who are no longer alive? I ventured a guess it had a lot to do with what kind of mother I was to my living children.

The timing of accident happened at the point of transition for me. I had two married daughters a married son, grandchildren and a soon to be empty home. My youngest two boys in their early twenties, the one involved in the accident had been in college, living off campus near his college with his brother-in-law and the sister- the one who he died with in the accident. The other son had graduated college was starting a law enforcement career working long hours, hardly ever home- both ready to make the transition themselves to full independence.

What I found out thru a good bit of reflection and yes- therapy was that I had an over exaggerated sense of my own importance in my children's lives, they were adults after all. I didn't need to remind this one of the others birthday or smooth over this or that spat, feel responsible to accommodate get together's "just because" I wanted family togetherness. If the kids were in touch with each other or not that was their own is their business, and they were free to conduct separate relationship free of my involvement or judgement. I was their parent- not the social director-communications director- feeler of all things responsible-my involvement to the extent that it was, was too much.

I could write a list as long as my arm of  those little things I did to accommodate. I am a caretaker by nature the hub of the family- the peacemaker, I think most mothers are. If the people who I care about need me I'm there- that's what I do, but there's another layer to it, why I did it- it fulfilled a need in me.

And that's the rub here of course, when I did all the things I did I told myself it was for them, but under all of it what drove me was this need- this feeling to be involved to stay relevant and to hold on to how it felt to be that mother of children that were actually children. So with that knowledge I transitioned rather painfully I must admit from the mother who was rather enmeshed in her adult children's lives to a concerned mother who was involved but no longer enmeshed.

Even though not the original  purpose for going, the death of my children brought me to the therapy which helped me to grow as a mother.  I gained valuable insight into my relationships with my children. I learned that stepping back, that letting go isn't withholding attention or love but the complete opposite and that lesson applies to my dead children as well as my living ones.

-post card- protect us from all anxiety

In the hours and days following the accident that killed the kids the phone kept on ringing. There were reports that the accident site was a terrible scene, the coroner was away for a holiday so there would be delays releasing their bodies. The accident details were reported on the national news, reporters were calling the house, Fed- Ex was delivering packets from high priced attorneys promising to "represent" us as if somehow money would compensate us for our loss. I had lost all sense of what was normal as my anxiety grew to levels well beyond what any one person should be able to bear.

I've never really given much thought to why the words  that are below are part of the liturgy but my pastor brought it up this week in his homily since the gospel teaching dealt with Jesus teachings on worrying. Many Catholics, myself included tend to listen to those parts of the Mass that have always been- without ever questioning why.

There is a part in the Catholic Mass after the Lords Prayer and before the Sign of Peace where the Priest does a declaration of praise or a doxology if you will; at each and every Mass he says:

 Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, and grant 

us peace in our day. In your mercy in, keep us free from sin,

 and protect us from all anxiety, as we wait in joyful

 hope for coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

It seems in a previous parish my pastor had a parishioner who was a mental health professional who had an issue with part of the prayer ( protect us from all anxiety ) he felt anxiety was necessary even a healthy part of life. I tend to think worry is healthy to a certain degree, anxiety when it reaches levels so great it can't be managed and interferes with your life is just plain unhealthy.

My level of stress and anxiety was off the charts those first days and stayed that way for a long time, this type of stress makes you alert to everything- does something to your brain. The bumps in the night were real to me then, I heard each and every one of them since I hardly ever slept. Its hard to explain the feeling of being intensely afraid but not really knowing what I was afraid of, it is an awful experience. My sense of safety was gone, I was constantly plagued with this feeling that another shoe would drop, that something awful was going to happen to us again. So I waited and waited some more, rarely able to get the rest I needed to function normally.

Once ordinary occurrences like the sight of State Troopers speeding down the Interstate were enough to make my blood run cold until I checked to make sure my children were OK; the vision of their cars lined up in my driveway the morning of the accident seared in my memory forever. A dashboard light on the car had new meaning to me, the slightest threat that anything would place me stranded on the side of the highway, the place my children perished filled me with paralyzing fear.

My life as it was felt horribly wrong to me for a very long time, there was part of me clinging for all I was worth to the past before the accident; as another part of me was at the same time acknowledging  the need to move on, my turmoil was intense.

I think the point I'm trying to make is that prayer takes time, a quiet mind, focus and dedication,  none of which I was capable- due to my anxiety. I would venture to guess that might be why this is included in the Mass. Anxiety can be a barrier to God and it was for me for a time. So if you ever attend a Catholic Mass and wonder if praying to protect a person from anxiety is worthy of your time, take it from me it is.