Since I have a dog in this hunt, several people have asked why I haven't spoken up about the June 26, 2015 SCOTUS ruling that legalized same sex marriage. The truth is simple. My heart is so full of what I want to say, I can't even think the thoughts without crying. I'm scared I'll drown once I get them out. Yikes, here goes...
11 years ago, at the tender age of 13, my son came out to me. We were in the car, on our way home for the day when he delivered the news. In my "motherstyle" I outwardly took it like I take every other shocking piece of information my offspring feed me. I was dead calm and replied with something like, "Oh. Okay." Inside, I remember feeling like the world had stopped spinning, like I had been gut punched, like life as I knew it had come to a screeching halt. Because it had.
Somehow, I got us home and I told him I'd like to talk more about it later, after dinner and homework. I went out to the pool house and screamed into a pillow and cried. I cried selfish tears for what I thought I was losing, I cried mother's tears for how much harder my son's life would most likely be from this day forward, I cried for my daughter, who would defend her brother and stand by him no matter what. I cried for my husband who was out of town on business and would not get to share this moment in time with us and I didn't know how he would take the news. I cried for friends and family who would reject my son and our family out of their fear and misunderstanding. I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.
And then I stopped.
I pulled myself together and took stock of what I still had. I knew my son would still have a good life. He's one of those people who stumbles gracefully forward and things just work out for him. He's smart and funny and handsome and people want to be around him and help him. So what if he didn't meet the girl of his dreams in college, get married and raise a family? His life would still be wonderful. It would just be different. So, I put all my now useless hopes and dreams for him in a box, sealed it with a kiss and locked it deep down in the bottom of my heart, knowing it would never be opened again.
Never say never, huh? On Friday, that box I had buried catapulted to the surface and exploded open and my dreams came back to life. Oh, and I cried. I cried selfish tears for what has been returned to me, I cried mother's tears for how wonderful my son's life might actually get to be. I cried for all my friends who will get to marry and have children and hold their beloved as that person takes his last breath. I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried.
And I'm still crying.
But this time, the tears are different. They are happy tears, tears of hope, tears of relief, tears of freedom. For the first time since that late summer day 11 years ago, I have given myself permission to hope and dream about what kind of life my son can have.
I know that many people are happy about this day, but the happiness I am feeling is different. It's special. It's a happiness only a mother knows. From the first moment I held my children, I understood. I became part of a collective of people who would do ANYTHING-without question-to protect their child. And we protect their hearts just like we protect their lives. It's not always right and it's not always pretty, but a mother's love is strong and true and made to last.
I am also crying tears for my friends whose mothers are not here to share this wonderful day and for those whose mothers refuse to share this wonderful day. I'm your mother. I'm with you. And I'm crying. I'm crying happy, happy tears for all the wonderful possibilities that lie ahead for you, my friends. You've come so far, you've waited so long. And I'm here for you. I'm proud of you. I've fought hard in my own way for this day.
And, yes, I'm still crying. I don't imagine I'll stop anytime soon. I'm a mother. That's what we do.
