Once you’re a parent, you’re always a parent.  You can’t hide it under a hat.  You can’t put it away in a drawer, or place it in a closet. 

A child sitting at a nearby table at a local restaurant leans too far back in her chair, and you gasp to yourself, afraid she’ll fall. Put your hand to your chest, “oh gosh!”  

She’s not your child. 

But you’re a parent… forever.

Once you become one…

You. Are. Always. A. Parent.

This realization has hit me with full–force.  A brick wall.  Unstoppable and unbreakable.  

Spending the morning of my birthday walking for March of Dimes, but more importantly, walking for Maddie was just what I needed, as a parent.

I’m not a big “birthday person” but apparently Maddie’s mom, Heather, is because the night before the walk she left me this message on twitter…

@MyBottlesUp: You’re walking tomorrow for Maddie AND it’s your birthday? I am so, so touched. Birthdays mean a lot to me. Thank you SO much.

This message that Heather sent me has resonated with me for days…  the fact that she took the time to say this, to express this to someone else, a stranger/friend, when she and her husband, Mike, are grieving, going through their own tragedy, astounds me.

And I haven’t been able to write about it, until now. 

When I fathom what their days have been like since their precious Maddie’s passing, I am at a loss…  I can’t do it.  My mind comes up with images of meals being dropped off, friends stopping in for hugs, roller-coasters of tears and laughter as they remember and reminisce, and make their own mark…

What do you say? 

What do you do?

It has taken me days to attempt a blog post for something like this.  I don’t even “know” them, in the traditional sense that one “knows” someone. 

I have posted pictures on Maddie’s Flikr link.  I have made it known to everyone who needs to be told that we showed up, our team made it, here’s what we raised, etc…

Our team never fully met up.  Some of us met in the parking lot, under bridges, hiding from the rain.  Some of us called each other’s cell phones, wanting desperately to catch up to the other person, but falling short.  Timing was just off.  But that didn’t matter. 

We are parents.

We were there for Maddie, for Heather, for Mike…  for the Spohr Family as a whole.  Friends and family alike.  We were there for the teams around the country that have united for this family in grief, collecting pictures, remembering, and making new memories. 

We are united. 

And that’s what children do… bring people together… show and experience unconditional love… without fear, without judgment.

When you’re a parent, you watch your child(ren) teach.  Teach themselves, teach you, teach other kids, other people…  teach adults.  In my 1 year of experience as a parent, I have been taught that these “things” are things one should already know, like how to share, or how to say “please” or “thank you” but once you’re an adult, those things often get forgotten. 

The good gets left behind so easily for the convenient.

Maddie’s smile, whenever I see it, reminds me of the goodness in all of us.

That was why I walked. 

I walked for her smile.  And while I struggled to celebrate, continuing to fathom the pain that Heather and Mike are enduring on a daily basis…  I tried, (Maddie, I tried!) really hard to celebrate being a parent!

Because, apparently, you made a ton of people smile with your smile, and laugh with your laugh.

And how great it is to be a parent to a child like that… 

Heather, Mike, you did that.  Because, when you’re a parent, that’s just what you do… the very best that you can.  And you will always be parents.

 Always.