On Mothering…
My stepson passed on August second. He was twenty-eight years old. Donovan had profound special needs and was unable to see, speak or ambulate. He was able to communicate and had a language all his own and one of his favorite things to do was give kisses. The actual realization that these were indeed kisses that he was giving was not discovered until he moved in with his father and I at the age of twenty-one. It is not necessary to go into all the details of how D came to live with us, but it is important to know that his former primary caregiver had concluded that he was ready for hospice in the summer of twenty fourteen. Donovan’s father and I did not agree with that opinion.
I always knew I was going to be a mom someday and felt it was most likely not going to be in the conventional way. Donovan and I had only known each other for about a year before he moved in. D was now in our home and most definitely needed some mothering upon his arrival. Here I was… finally a mom. I was all the things a new mom is…. scared, nervous, excited, open minded and with a fully unconditional heart. And due to messy adult circumstances, I was now the everyday mom to this beautiful, sweet boy I really knew little about.
Sure, I knew he had an anoxic brain injury two days after his third birthday. That he suffered daily from seizures. That he loved his Disney movies and his brother. I played ball with D and watched as he slowly moved his left arm up to try and push the ball off his lap for a pass. I listened as he said ‘ummm’ as a yes to a question that was asked. I observed him with his home health nurses who all treated him with the highest regard of respect and admiration.
But I didn’t really know him. Until I did. Which wasn’t until after he really knew me. And when that trust was established, we exploded into a heart connection filled with hope, curiosity, excitement, awe and utter love. A connection that I can only imagine is equal to that of a mother and child. I still can’t put into words the connection he and I have. But I can tell you that the kisses were validation that I never needed but I am so happy to have now.
It was easy to miss the kisses because it is literally the exact same face D makes when he does not like the smell of something. I mean bad breath would totally be a cause for the ‘squenchy face’ as we called it. And it was totally reasonable to assume that the kisser’s breath may be bad enough to cause a ‘squenchy face’ especially when D experienced a higher sense of smell (to make up for his lack of sight). But in the right context and because quite frankly I am a kiss-aholic and tortured him with kiss attacks, I realized he was giving me kisses back. And then sometimes when I would walk in from my day or just back into the room, D would already be puckered into his ‘squenchy face’ waiting for me to plant a big one. At times he would pucker so hard he would make a little determination/proud noise and other times his pucker would break into a big smile. I told him daily that he was the best pucker-er that ever puckered! That he was damn right gifted in receiving and sharing kisses. That of all the talents one could possess giving and receiving love was undoubtedly the best. Giving and receiving love in its simplest form was his superpower.
I have had other losses in my life, and they have left me feeling lost and empty. I have no holes after Donovan. He has filled them all and stocked me with more love and gratitude then I could ever imagine. Donovan taught me that giving and receiving love can be quite simple. And that mothering is as magical as I knew it was going to be.
Happy Mother’s Day…to all who Mother.
