Justin,

You would have been 33 years old tomorrow. And I miss you. I miss you at all stages of your brief and beloved life; your infancy and your childhood, your tween years and your early manhood. And most difficult, I think, I miss who you would be here and now; everything you would have been to me today. I love you unrelentingly & eternally my son.

Forever, your Mother

September 8, 2014

Justin Donnell Woodly 

 9/9/81 - 6/30/06

Remembering You

As a quiet, sensitive child,

I survived by residing in a rich,

internal space that held fast to the nuanced

colors and shades of my world;

held fast to my varied emotions; 

and imprinted them deeply, 

and reverently in memory.

Quietly,

Sensitively,

Emotionally,

Deeply,

Reverently,

This is how I will remember you.

♥ Forever, Your Mother ♥

Refelctions On My 60th Birthday

My surviving child calls me because it's my birthday. She wants to know I am working at having a reasonably good day; that I am meaningfully engaged and feeling something approaching happiness. I put on a shiny voice for her. She has enough stress in her life. She doesn't need to worry about me. But the truth is, more than anything else, today just feels like another marker of misery in my failed, sorry life. The truth is, I am tired of this, and just want it to be over. Still, I do my best impression of a content and centered person. If nothing else, I succeed at relaying how much I care about her, and the things going on in her life. Of all my affectations, this is the one that is true. I tell her I have to run because my landline is ringing with a potential job prospect. That is kind of true. But she's a smart girl, always has been. She calls me back a half hour later because she doesn't trust my disposition is as sunny as I pretend. She doesn't tell me that's the reason she called back, and we both pretend we don't know that it is.

Just the same, something odd happens to me during the course of this second phone call. She starts talking about her 3 year old son (my grandson) Vaughn. He's a fascination to her, and seeing his spirit and intellect evolve and grow is a revelation. She sucks me in with this conversation, because he's a revelation to me too; an amazingly complex, beautiful puzzle assembling itself in front of our eyes. And while I realize she's a very astute and accomplished young woman all on her own, I remember I taught her to look at life this way; as an intriguing puzzle to figure out, give language to, and do "sense making" around. I realize this intellectual habit is enriching her spirit; enriching the enjoyment of watching her baby boy grow. And in that moment, I feel engaged and grateful more than detached, empty, and regretful. We chat this way until she has to go, suggesting she and Vaughn Skype with me later. And as I hang up the phone, I hope against hope this engaged, grateful feeling lingers a bit, until I put my shiny face on with them again later this evening. It took her some effort, but if I'm honest, I must admit her conversation hurled a shaft of sunlight through my stormy, cloud covered spirit. And as birthday presents go, that's as good as it gets these days.

Ann, Forever Justin's Mom

TO MY BELOVED JUSTIN ON HIS SEVENTH MEMORIAL DATE

Dearest Justin,  
As of today, I am seven years away from you. And that feels excruciatingly far. I wish the last time I hugged you was a week ago. And that it had been only four days since I heard your voice on the phone. And I wish I was expecting your call in the next few days and waiting for your visit accompanying me to the 4th of July fireworks you know I love so much. And knowing you, I would understand that you believed watching your aging, but still crazy Mom getting so excited about fireworks was a perfect way to spend some time with me. This awareness and quiet caring are among the things I miss most about you.

 
I recently came across this picture in your cousin’s photo album. You were about 14 when it was taken; already grown into your young man look, but retaining vestiges of my baby boy’s gentleness. I see kindness in your face, coupled with a calm determination so characteristic of you. You have a subtle, barely discernible smile in your eyes, and an overall expression that is thoughtful and serious at the same time it is open to the revelry around you. And even through your Urkel-like glasses you are beautiful. I love this image of you, and the remembrance of your spirit it evokes. I long for the day when looking at it brings only warmth, joy and a sense of being present with you; the day when anguished, heart stopping loss is not associated with this image at all. But I fear no matter how long I live, I’m unlikely to get there. Actually, time feels like the enemy in this regard, since the distance from you as years pass create their own trajectory of grief and pain. But cherishing and remembering you are more important than this pain my love. It is seven years ago today. I will miss you always. And you will be present with me forever.

Eternally, Your Mother

6/30/13 

Things They Left Us

The quote below is derived from science literature about a recent discovery on fetal cell duration in the mother’s body. This amazing scientific fact inspired the poem that follows entitled, “Things They Left Us” 

 

‘Scientists have recently revealed that a mother's bloodstream contains not only her own cells, but a small number of her child's as well, and some may remain in her internal organs decades after the baby is born. Scientists discovered cells from fetal boys and girls have been found in mothers "four to five decades following the last pregnancy." That fetus may have grown into a middle aged pharmacist, and still his cells are inside his mother.’

 Things They Left Us

We live among our dead;

We mothers of lost children;

Carry their remnant DNA inside us;

In uterine lining, heart and brain;

Haunting our very cells.

Viscerally present but not visible;

Unavailable to touch but forever felt.

For postpartum eternity we carry them.

They will never leave us. Yet they are gone.

This is another way we hold them that is beyond control.

It cannot be willed away through determination or purpose.

It is empirical reality. It is physical fact, this flesh of my flesh.

You left yourself with me before permanently leaving my sight.

How could I not grieve you forever?

 Forever Your Mother

4/19/13

Images of Justin