Moon

He was infatuated with the ever changing Moon. My son loved playing and being outside. There was a day during our evening exercises that he looked toward the sky, pointed to the Moon, and began to leap for the mysterious and distant Moon. He must’ve jumped at least a hundred times trying to reach that celestial object so profound in the sky. Pebs pointed, turned towards me and engaged me to look at the Moon, and then continued to jump for it. He was so proud to have discovered this bright, astronomical “ball” that he apparently didn’t think I knew existed. All of this was during the day when the Moon is “asleep” and not supposed to be seen.

Since September 25, 2017, I haven’t missed a single day or night without searching the sky for the moon. Most days I see it and try to capture it with my phone camera whether it’s during the day or night. Some days, I talk to him. I tell him how much I miss him, and with tears rolling down my face, I ask for strength. Other days, I just stare. I allow my thoughts to roam, to be free. But most of the days, I just thank God. It wasn’t on the first day or a week after. It probably wasn’t even a month after my son’s passing that I was grateful to Him. It was difficult to feel anything but brokenness for the first few months. Being grateful was not even a feeling I knew how to have in those days. Searching and discovering the Moon brought me solace in the first few months after his passing. It was almost our connection, my therapy. A time where I could release my anger, my questions, my brokenness. The Moon. How could something that brought my son and I so much joy, bring so much pain now? We jumped for it. We admired it. We learned about it. La Luna. It brought tears, agony, and happiness all at the same time.

One day, I’ll be able to write about that tragic day. I’ll magically script the horrific nightmare that tortures me and strengthens me all at once, but today isn’t the day. One day, I know I’ll relive that moment through words and know that projecting them on screen isn’t for my grief journey, but for others who will need to hear the story for their own grief and hope.

My Pebs. I often think what he would be doing now. What new words he would be speaking, and how far would he be hitting the baseball with his bat. Those thoughts tend to haunt and torture a grieving mother. I don’t allow myself to stay there long or too often. I spend time on our pond that we have in the backyard. I lay on the pier and look up into the sky. I spot the Moon and stare. I talk to him. I tell him how much I miss him. I let him know how much I love him. I express, with my tears and words, how much I wish he was here. I stare long and hard at the moon. The ever changing Moon. Then, with the tears flowing, I thank Him. I thank God for allowing ME to be his mom. What a blessing to have had the privilege to be Pebble’s mama! He chose me. He gave us 21-months with our sweet baby boy. He filled our hearts with so much joy, love, laughter, and a plethora of blessings! He blessed me with my son. He blessed me then, he blessed me on that horrible day, and he continues to bless me, now and forever. I walk through faith. I am a child of God.

The Moon will always be something that connects me with my Pebs. Now and forever. I have moon décor, jewelry, clothing, even our softball team was named Moonshots in honor of our sweet boy. It signifies his life, his love, his joy, his energy, his heart, and our connection. I think of how wonderful the Moon is, its significance to our world. The Moon on it’s own doesn’t shine, but it reflects light. Without it, we wouldn’t have the gravitational pulls of the Earth, helps with climate control, and allows the sun’s light to reflect off of her to give us illumination in the dark nights. When I was in the darkest time of my life, the Moon would be there shining brightly and reminding me that there was still a life, a world, that needed to be shined upon. My Pebs was that light to others, but especially to me. That same Moon that brought me agony during my darkest moments after I lost Pebs, also illuminated my heart out of that pit of blackness. In order to keep my son’s memory alive, to fulfill my purpose, I must be like the Moon. I can’t be useful in the dark. I have to climb out of the pit to the light in order to shine for others, just like my Pebs did. We all have a purpose and it can’t be discovered in the darkness. You can only shine in the light. The Moon will always be there, whether we can see it or not. It is there. Just like our pain, but we are allowed to live and help others while we are on this Earth.

I will continue to admire the Moon everyday of my existence and everyday, I will have my Pebs there with me.

“When the storms rage on, I look back and remember, how you’ve been my rock. You’ve been faithful to me. And I know I’m loved, I can stand on this promise. Through it all and say You’ve been good to me. ” -Faithful To Me worship song (Grace Houston Worship)