mothering
by virginia graziano

My beloved son Jeremy died ten years ago.
These are words that every parent dreads, but this has been my reality—unable to protect him from the path of his illness, helpless watching him grow sicker. Fighting hard to find a cure, a way to save him took every waking minute. All the years spent raising him and his older sister Jennifer as a single mother, all the struggle, hard work, hopes, sweet moments grew unreal with the onslaught that hit our family.

What I thought of as my life, partly lived unconsciously, whether satisfactory or not, faded into meaninglessness as I got the word in the emergency room that my son had brain cancer. Nothing, not my divorce, my nervous breakdown, the years struggling to raise my children and build a career, prepared me for this. Or I could say that all of it did. I loved my family fiercely; they were my life and my loves. And all of this was ripped away. And yet I was also a mother, a mother in extreme circumstances doing the best I could to understand what was happening and how to help my child.

He was brave and funny and caring. And he was also my friend. We walked this hard road together. Even my love could not save him. I couldn't control what was happening; I could only choose how I would walk through it: with love, with courage, with openness. I wanted to run screaming from my life, but I didn't. I prayed for the strength to make it through the day, to know what to do, to not let the past cloud my judgements. I bargained with God and I stood there and lived in the moment. More than that was impossible, just too scary.

Now it is the tenth anniversary of that time. My life is very different than it was. I too passed through a death to get here. Jeremy's illness pushed me to grow and heal in ways I never would have thought possible. Today my daughter lives in Atlanta and I live here in Asheville. Our former lives in New York are over. And my life here is good, very good. I am living my dream here and I have time to ponder my path.

We shape our children, but they shape us too. I was transformed by parenting Jennifer and Jeremy. They were and are my two special loves. And what I see now is that I wouldn't be here, wouldn't be writing these words if it hadn't been for my son's death. Jeremy, I acknowledge the tremendous gift that your life and death was. It's taken me ten years to be able to realize this. Before, my identity has been the mother who lost her child. Tragic. But my life is not about tragedy, but about courage, about rising above, acceptance, surrendering to what is and letting it take me on a journey. And it has been a healing journey, one that has involved healing, learning, art, music, writing and traveling. About parts of myself I never knew. About new friends, a new home, and a new love. I thought my life was over when Jeremy died, but I turned around and mothered myself like I had mothered them. I listened to what my soul wanted, and so I am here in these beautiful mountains, in a new life.

I talked with Jennifer last night about learning from your children. How as a parent, I was focused on teaching them and what I realize is that they taught me as much as I taught them. They have mothered me. They taught me about joy and playfulness, about unconditional love, about the power of love to transform anything and make it holy. They taught me that parenting is a partnership entered into by both parent and child. And I am grateful for my children, for our lives, however less than perfect I thought it was at the time. It was perfect for us. It was our journey and it has made us who we are today.

ginger graziano, creative woman, is an artist, writer and graphic designer. She is the owner of Ginger Graziano Design Group. She moved to Asheville two years ago from New York City. She can be reached at 828-236-2075 or gingergraz@charter.net