It's in the Mail

Pre-September I checked the mail a few times a week. Around here, we're usually heavy on the junk mail and light on anything important. Along with everything else, that changed after Ryan died.

I've said it before, but the stream of cards and small gifts we received in the weeks after September 7, was constant. I began to get the mail every day. Not a week would go by without something arriving.

As more time passed, the mail eased up as it should, but every now and then something will appear. A "take-care-of-yourself" package. A Christmas ornament. A special book made just for me. Every day I check the mail, and on these special surprise days the mailed sentiments lift me. The same way a new mother beams with pride when others speak of and compliment her baby, that's how I, the bereaved mother, feel when I'm told someone was thinking of mine. And it doesn't matter that I "know" everyone thinks of him from time to time or all the time. It's important to be let in on the secret.

That's what getting mail does for me. Whether it's mail in my mailbox, a note in my inbox, a text, a comment, a like, a message. Knowing he's thought of is such a precious gift.

Not long ago, a fellow loss-mom shared a photo of a letter she received addressed to her, her husband, and her angel-baby boy. I was moved to tears by the thoughtfulness of such a gesture from the sender. And it's a gesture that might be hard to understand. But my angel baby is so much a part of the family, that when I receive mail, like letters and cards, addressed to only "Amanda and Rich" I get a tiny pang of sadness in my heart knowing that if he had gotten to stay the card would be addressed differently.

To: Rich, Amanda, and Ryan

It's a remarkable thing how the smallest gestures can be the most powerful. You'd be surprised by the impact a simple blue heart emoji can make. It all may not seem like much, but even those small acknowledgements can put that proud-mama smile in my heart.