La Llorona, or the weeping lady is a tale I heard of many times when I was growing up. There are many versions to this story, the one I heard when I was a child was of a woman whose children died and she forever roams at night, crying, weeping for her dead children. My Mom always warned us to behave or La Llorona would come and take us. As a child, I had an image of her, black long hair, in a white night gown crying inconsolably for her dead children. It was a terrifying image. Now of course, I think of La Llorona and I think of myself.
Yesterday after I got off work, I got in my car and felt happy. The sun was out, the trees are blooming, new life is all around me. Then, it hit me. Ethan isn't here. I, like La Llorona, was driving and sobbing, deep cries erupting from me, desperation because my son is dead and there is nothing I can do about it. Two years are approaching, and I can't believe he's not here. Why. Why did it happen. It took me about 15 minutes to get home, and I couldn't stop crying. I thought of how horrific I looked to other drivers. But, I couldn't help it. This is what ongoing grief looks like, smiling on the outside and weeping on the inside and sometimes, erupting in sobs and tears. I finally arrived home safely, and my husband knew. He said nothing, hugged me and wiped my tears. I greeted everyone, kissed and carried Lauren, kissed lil Jason and life goes on.
Ethan, I miss you so much. There is not a day that goes by without me thinking of you. You are forever in my heart. I love you sweet baby boy! Mommy misses you!
