[I woke up one morning with a nightmare I had playing over and over in my mind. I sat behind my computer and let my fingers take control. Reading back what I had written, I almost instantly had tears racing down my cheeks. The events in the following article did not happen to me. The events in the following article have probably happened to too many mothers who have lived in a war. Motherhood brings us together in the good and the bad. Join me on this very emotional trip in THAT mother’s war-torn shoes.]
I could hear the eerie sound of the jets getting closer but still wasn’t sure what to expect. I’ve never lived through a war before. The only disputes I’ve been a part of were those relating to who will pick up the tab at our favourite bistro or who gets dibs on the window seat on a plane; at the time those disagreements felt like nothing could be worse. Never did I dream that I would live my worst fear in a war having to find shelter for my children from bombs raining down the sky.
Back home my husband and I enjoyed spending as much time with our children as possible. Like most parents with outside jobs (to be politically correct), we always put in extra effort and strained ourselves to give our children the attention we felt they lacked in our absence. Our oldest, now six and- more importantly- a half, enjoyed being in the spot light. She loved to dance and sing and make people around her smile. Often followed around by our youngest cheeky little one who, like her sister, could never get enough attention.
My boy, on the other hand, oh my sweet kind hearted son- he was loving, caring, and passionate about keeping the planet clean. He laughed often and cried often. When he smiled my whole world smiled. When he cried, I honestly got furious and made him stop immediately; in hindsight I think ‘how petty of me’.
Letting go of him that night tore my heart to bits; so much so that my chest caved in and I stopped breathing ever since. Letting go of him that night paralyzed me for the next 100 years. Letting go of him that night left me naked, scared, alone, cold, devastated, horrified, and so much more for the rest of my life.
The time we could see where the jets were coming from was about the same time we could project where the bombs would land. It’s amazing how quickly we learned the different types of bombs and how each explodes in a different way. Based on that newly acquired knowledge, I developed a new skill that allowed me to react accordingly. I was able to successfully shelter myself and my children the first 3 times we were hit thanks to my simple 3-step strategy:
- Stay calm and do not panic
- Give simple instructions in a clear and authoritative tone
- Grab all three and just RUN
Until for a split second and before the last explosion I lost my cool. I panicked. I became frantic. I let go of my son as we ran in the other direction and he got left behind. A split second sent him a lifetime away. That split second meant I had to let him go forever…
I am not capable of handling this loss. I am not equipped to take on such grief. And over what? A war? A war that no one understands why it started and how it will end. A war eating at the lives of millions upon millions upon millions who have lost their homes, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, best friends… and sons.
I had become the mother who had lost her son at the hands of people she doesn’t know for a war she doesn’t understand. I had become the mother whose sun would never rise the same way again, and whose moon would never light up the sky.
Article by Noha Ayaso of KIDDOZandME.
She is like that friend we all have who- no matter what- will always take your call!