A Mother's Eulogy (10/15/10)....

     As I write this, a public goodbye and respect to my Ryan, I wonder what a mother is suppose to say when she has lost her child? What is too much? What is not enough? But even more then this, I wonder why any mother should have to lose her child?
     Ryan was so much…to so many. He was a son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin, a godson, and a friend. But for me, Ryan was my baby. He was my infant, my toddler, my little boy, my teenager. He was my Ryan.
     I can still remember the joy and completeness I felt each time he moved inside of me. I remember every detail of his birth like it was yesterday…..my St. Patrick’s Day baby with bright, red hair and big blue eyes. I remember his quiet nature as an infant, never crying or fussing. He was so quiet, that I often called the pediatrician as I thought something must be wrong with him. They would always assure me he was perfectly fine…just a content and happy baby. I remember his quiet nature as a toddler and little boy. His extreme shyness at large gatherings of people. His ability to amuse himself, and the comfort he always seemed to have with being by himself. I remember the way he would fight a smile, and if one started to show, he would try to cover his mouth with his hand so no one would see. I told Ryan many times it was OK to smile…that people loved to see him smile. And when he did let you see, or he just couldn‘t hide the joy in his face any longer, the room simply exploded in the happiness his smile would penetrate. His smile was magical. It was a gift to me every time I saw it. From a baby, to 16 years old, his smile brought complete joy to my heart.
     As Ryan got older he loved adventures and seeing new places. He loved vacations and went on many of them with his dad and myself throughout the years. When on vacation with me, we would often fly. We went to the East Coast, to Disneyland many times, and to Hawaii. Every time we got to the airport Ryan would explode with excitement, which I loved to see. When we got on the plane, he would always pull out the bible he was given my his Aunt Leslie at his baptism. The first time he did this, I asked him why he packed his bible. His answer was simply, “I know nothing will happen to this plane if I have my Bible.”  He believed in God and really felt carrying the Bible would keep him safe. There was such a pure sweetness in him. We went to Disneyland last year…his bible again in hand.
     Being a mother, you always see the good in your child. No matter what was happening with him, I always saw his heart. His heart was pure. It was loving. It was giving. It was tender. It was vulnerable. Because of these qualities, I have always felt very protective of Ryan. Hearts this loving can so easily be hurt, and the last thing a mother wants is to see her child hurt. I often prayed for him at night, asking God to protect him, fill him, and guide him always. Because of his heart, it was easy to trust him, as I always felt his heart would lead the way. I would often tell him to listen to his heart, and follow where it led. Little did I know the kind of love he was spreading to all he met.
     His friends were from all walks of life. Ryan didn’t care if someone was an A student or if they were in trouble with the law. He didn’t care about color, race, gender, or the circle of friends someone had. He saw people’s hearts, and loved them for that, and that alone. He didn’t care what people thought of him, he was secure in himself. He told me once, “ If someone judges me wrong because of someone I am friends with, that is their problem, not mine. I know my heart, I know my friend’s hearts, and that’s all that matters.”  I had great respect for his beliefs and opinions, and because of that, I had a deep trust in him.
     Our relationship was sacred to me. We were open and honest with each other. We shared personal experiences and feelings, never judging the other. If he needed anything, he knew I was here. We had a pure and complete love for each other, and I will forever be grateful for that. He was literally a part of me physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
     I am not the same woman I was on Sept 21^st when I said goodnight to Ryan and told him I loved him for the last time. I know I will never be the same woman again. I don’t think you can lose a child and ever go back to the way you were. It is too life altering. I only pray that somehow I will endure this unbearable pain and emptiness, and rise again, becoming an even better person then I was before I lost him. This would be the greatest honor I could ever give my Ryan. I always gave him everything I had, and he knew it…….. so I wouldn’t dream of stopping now.