I have always been obsessed with time. Since the age of eight, I insisted on wearing a watch daily and even to this day that is one item I will not leave my house without wearing. I cannot give a reason for this as I do not recall anyone in my spheres of influence as a child that would have imparted the importance of knowing what time it was at any given moment. One positive aspect of being ever cognizant of time, is that it has led to a natural ability to effectively manage my time. A downside of this trait is that when specific time frames are unclear, I become frustrated and annoyed.

In a sardonic twist of fate, I do not know how many days, hours, and minutes my son spent of this earth. My best calculation is between 8,522 and 8,543 days or between 204,538 – 205,032 hours.

Given my preoccupation with time, the first thing I will always ask a fellow bereaved mother when we meet is: “How old was he when he died?” The children that you will read about on this site were between 13-24 years old when we lost them. Their age at death becomes their forever age. However, their forever age is only one aspect of their age.

While they may be frozen in time and forever young to the outside world, as mothers we also keep track of how old they would be if they were alive today.

As I write this Izzy would be turning 28 years old 😥.

Another question I ask to satisfy my time-fixated mind is, “How long ago did you lose
him?” In my early days of grief, I was reading any and everything related to child loss. One time-based fact that I remember reading was that losing a child required the longest recovery time relative to other types of loss and it could take ten years to return to a state of normalcy. TEN YEARS?!?! This certainly was not good news as it invoked an imaginary scenario in which I would not be productive in any major capacity for a decade. This was unacceptable and I refused to accept this “fact”.

I explain my thought-process to provide insight as to why I am interested in exploring transformative learning as it relates to my fellow black and blue butterflies. My belief is that learning from other mothers who have successfully negotiated these uncharted waters could offer me a set of navigational devices, so I do not get lost at sea but rather reach land by taking the most efficient route for me. Deb, Samantha, Betsy, and Gail have collectively provided me with a set of navigational aids that have help me reach the shore without drowning.