This is not what I had planned to write today, but I have found that when it comes to writing for the Spirituality site, I have to listen to my heart and soul – and not my head.

I am grieving today and I did not expect to be.

My son called me out of the blue from school, sobbing. He had just found out that a good friend of his was killed in an accident over the weekend. This was a double tragedy for us. My son has Asperger’s, and so has very few friends that accept him the way he is – this young man was one of them. All Michael knew was that he had suddenly had one of his dear friends ripped out of his life.

Grief is a new thing to Michael. Because of his Asperger’s, he does not experience emotions like the rest of us do. I honestly have not seen him cry since he was a very young child, maybe 5 years old (he is now 18.) To hear him sobbing his heart out over the phone broke my heart.

Over the past few weeks my heart has been hurting a lot for Michael. Homecoming is next week, his Senior Homecoming I should say. He desperately wants to take someone, but has been turned down by everyone he asked. Like I said, he is different which is not a good thing in high school. He is very lonely, kids often either shun him, make fun of him, or both. He has informed me at lunch he has no one to sit with. I have tried my best to be strong for him and teach him the importance of independence and that there are other kids he can make friends with; but at night I am crying into my husband’s shoulder at the pain I feel for my son. I want to make it better for him, and I can’t. Heck, part of this very angry mother right now wants to go scream at some rude children (and their obviously clueless parents), but I can’t or at least shouldn’t go do that either.

I call this “Pain by Proxy”.

I’ve mentioned in earlier articles that when you truly love someone you give that other person a little piece of your soul. There is no truer example of this than when we love our children. They are literally a part of us for the 1st nine months of their lives. They share our blood, our oxygen, and our nutrients. They are lulled to sleep by our movements, our heartbeats, our very voices. As mothers we rub our bellies dreaming of the day we will one day hold this little life in our arms. Dads get such a raw deal during those nine months. Sure they don’t get morning sickness or back pain – but they don’t feel this life moving inside or watch a little hand reach out to touch.

Then we spend the next year caring for our baby. We know what every cry means. Some scientists would like us to believe it is just Pavlov’s response – that we can just “hear” the difference. I think it is something more – that we feel our child. I know I was closer to my daughter that I was able to breastfeed than my youngest son whom I was not. (Don’t get me wrong I love them both, but Jordan and I dream together still).

So is it any wonder that we want to protect our children from all harm; physical, mental, or emotional. And the more it hurts, the more we want to protect. Let’s face it – the emotional almost always hurts the most. So with “Pain by Proxy” we feel this pain our child feels. Our hearts hurt, we want to cry with them, we want to take the pain away, but we can’t. We can only offer comfort and let them know we are here for them and we will never judge them, and we will never leave them.

We’ve given these small people we love the biggest part of our souls – they own us more than any other. But we own them, too. That is what love is, a give and take. Because we love them, they know they can trust us and they will come to us with the pain.

Just hold them through the rough storms and know that at least this piece of your souls is safe.