Most of you don’t know me personally. Some of you do. Some from before I started this blog, and some since. But if you knew me, you’d know that there’s nothing more important in this world than my family. I take great pride in how close we are, and the love we all have for each other. What most of you don’t know is that I have a huge marshmallow heart. It’s a nickname my husband has for me. It’s because I’ll be the first to cry when a Hallmark or some other sappy commercial comes on, or sad movies, or when someone close to me is hurt, and even when something not so close to me is hurt. I’m sure many of you are thinking that I don’t even have a heart—that the Grinch and I are thick as thieves, with our hearts “two sizes too small” and all.
There is something that you might have figured out about me. I have very strong convictions. I don’t always see the gray in things; it’s a lot of black and white to me. But as I’ve grown older, the grays on my head and in my views of situations have been easier for me to see. Nevertheless, there are certain things which I hold steady and true on, and two of those things are kids & family.
It has been asked of me why, since I have lost a child, that I’m not more compassionate to other mothers, especially mommy bloggers. Actually, I think my heart overflows in the compassion department, when it’s deserved and even sometimes when it’s not. I’m the first to join a cause, donate my time, and give money to charities. I think one of the more compassionate things someone can do is to care enough about your life and family to say so when you are irresponsible with them. So, I’ve felt compelled to tell people when they are making profound mistakes. Many of them don’t feel like my comments were borne from compassion; they merely see them as overly critical or sometimes hateful. It never was. I’m only sad that it was rarely seen that way by the people to whom it was directed.
The loss of my daughter taught me one of the most valuable things I have in my life: realizing just how incredibly precious life is and being grateful for it. It’s here today, gone tomorrow. You’d better make the damnedest out it. It took me years to see that.
For years, I was angry crying over her grave. Angry at God, myself, my body, everyone. Then one day, I don’t know why, while I was laying the flowers on her grave, I had an epiphany. Her death was a gift. I know that sounds insane. How could her death be a gift? Because I don’t know that I would have fully realized just how precious life was without knowing how easily it can be taken from me. I then understood fully how precious my son was, and that I needed to embrace the gift of life in my child. I vowed to be the best mother in the world to him. I take some pride in knowing he would agree.
One of the things I need to do to be the best mother in the world is to have my son see me following my priorities. I need my son to see that family is a top priority. I need him to always learn and grow and be better today than yesterday. I think he’s on that path, but now I need to get myself back on that path more than ever.
I want to be clear that the choice to shut down my blog was mine, and not provoked by anyone.
I know there’s a need for this place, but I have other things to do now. I have had to work hard to not let things said here penetrate my marshmallow heart. Some days, that’s a great feat.
I have family members—one in particular right now—who need me now, more than this place does. Thank you all for the well wishes. They felt good to read. That one family member is doing better, but there’s a long road ahead for recovery, and I want to make sure that my mind and my heart are fully engaged there, and not diluted by being here.
This is what family should do. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t do what I preach to you all to do. I’ve said it over and over. Step away from the computer screen and be present in your family’s life. You don’t know how much it would kill me to be a hypocrite. But more than that, it would really kill me to be spending my time here when I should be improving myself for my son, and taking care of my family.
Thank you all for the last three years. The good, the bad, and the ugly
um, entertainment. I hope you find a new place to vent your frustrations about people
behaving badly without fear of repercussions from bullies. But, whatever you do,
I hope you will allow yourself the courage to tell the truth when it counts the
most.
It’s been real,
CL