The Last First

Unlike my previous posts, this one has been a struggle to compose. Truth be told there is no Londyn memory to pair it with resulting in a message that is a bit gloomier than I prefer. But upon reflection I am reminded this blog was created in hopes I might be able to provide a window into our world. In order to do that honestly the rose colored glasses I tend to place in front of that window must be removed from time to time. Just because you can’t see the thorns does not mean they’re not present and my attempt to hide them only allows those thorns to choke out the fruits of my efforts. For whatever reason, this post kept coming back to me and so I feel it needs to be shared. A huge thank you to all who continue to join me in this journey. I truly appreciate your patience and support as I continue to stumble my way through this process…

I recently crossed yet another threshold in this new reality I find myself in. As I have noted on several occasions, these last few months have been filled with many “firsts”.  Moments normally celebrated with the special people in our lives who are suddenly gone and the resulting void with which we are left to grapple. A never ending barrage of significant occasions constantly there to remind us of Londyn’s absence. But with the marking of Mother’s Day, I find that this particular threshold carries a special significance. It is uniquely different from the others as it became my “last first”.

       This phrase I’ve coined is not a new thing nor is it something to be applied only to experiences of grief. In fact, in a normal world, one where our family is still whole and with our youngest preparing to enter his senior year, we would be preparing to celebrate the “last firsts” for Brendan. Those significant first time coming-of-age experiences that most families get to log as milestones in their photo albums unique to the youngest member of the family with older siblings that have paved the way. But truth be told we never had the first go around with Londyn. Not truly. As a high school graduate, class of 2020, she was robbed of so much. First by the pandemic, then the accident that ultimately took her life. Londyn should have been the first of our family, both immediate and extended, to celebrate a normal high school graduation. We should have some way of navigating prom when the time comes for Brendan because his sister lead the way. Pictures of a last spring concert band performance should be filling our iPhones and, as I write this, we should have had a first experience college graduate to celebrate. Yet, for whatever reason, the universe put us down a different path.

      This particular “last first” was a big one for me. It was the first time in over twenty years I marked Mother’s Day without being able to hug the one that made me a mom. There was no phone call or FaceTime chat and I didn’t get to annoy her, yet again, with the recounting of her dramatic birth story to the reply of her rolling eyes. Instead I find myself adrift yet again in a world that no longer looks or feels the same. This boat I’ve been placed in has ever so slowly been pulling away from the shore of her passing. And as the shoreline becomes increasingly distant I begin to feel the tingling of fear seep in as this particular moment, this “last first”, signals the beginning of a new cycle and the permanence that represents.

     And so, shaking my thoughts clear, I refocus my efforts, kicking myself to the surface from the sea of grief I once again let overwhelm me. Taking a deep breath I get back in the boat and grab an oar determined to take control of my course steering myself, instead, in a forward moving direction. It is a daunting exercise and one I’m not always successful in achieving. But despite it all, the future is still bright and there is sunlight just over the horizon. No matter what we call them, the many events that await us in the coming months promise to keep our schedules full and wallets empty. Brendan is soon to be faced with many bittersweet moments as one by one he participates in his last theater performances, choir concerts and VE events. And senior recognitions, graduation ceremonies and yes even prom will provide us many reasons to smile. All the normal rights of passage that our sweet girl missed out on, we will now celebrate doubly in honor of both of the amazing kids we’ve been blessed to call ours. And although we navigate these moments in the absence of a roadmap, I know without a doubt Londyn will be there guiding us every step of the way, forever an integral part of our family makeup, and expressing pride for the little brother she loves so very much.