I have been tossing and turning for 3 hours now, feeling like I am submerged under the ocean dying for a breath and I just can’t seem to get to the top. I need him like I need oxygen. I suspect it will always feeling like this to varying degrees…from feeling mildly breathless to gasping for air.
He would have been 16 today. As i typed that my fingers didn’t want to, it was like slow motion; almost like if I didn’t type it it wouldn’t come true.
I keep thinking about the day he was born, and beautiful blonde haired 7 lb 11 oz baby boy and we were instantly bonded. I loved him fiercely and that never wavered. He was gorgeous, he was a gift from heaven, and he was mine. Mine to take care of and protect and nurture and I loved every single minute of it.
I delighted in everything he did, every little milestone, every little word and could just not get enough of him. I remember picking him up from the babysitters and I would hold his hand from the front seat just so I could touch him on the ride home.
It is different with a first child. Not only was he my only one for 3 years and 9 months, I believe he was the easiest little boy that ever lived. I don’t remember disciplining him. Ever. My memory is probably a little fuzzy on that but I distinctly remember the shenanigans that his sisters got into especially in those younger years and the exasperation that ensued.
No one is perfect. We are all sinners. Yet Lucas was a one in a million, and I don’t say that to brag about my wonderful genes or parenting skills. It is simply true. God made him that way and I have had many people say similar things about him.
This is what you do on your child’s birthday- you celebrate him or her. You focus on all the good things. You thank God for their life and everything they mean to you.
I can’t stop thinking about his beautiful curly hair and blue eyes. His impressive height and build. How simply exquisite he was. Because it shone through from the inside too.
I keep thinking about how he looked shooting his bow and arrow and what an amazing shot he was.
Seeing him swing a bat and have it go soaring over the fence.
Watching him bowl a near perfect score.
Seeing him sit on the couch texting and peeking over his shoulder to see he was consoling a hurting friend.
Hearing him talk about how he stood up for a girl who was being mocked at his lunch table.
Hearing the genuine concern and hurt in his voice when he was talking to me about what to do about a relationship and not wanting to cause hurt.
Seeing him cry because he wanted so badly to get straight A’s but his memory just kept failing him no matter how much he studied and he just couldn’t focus in class.
Being amazing at his incredible writing skills, his impressive collection of diverse music, his many interests that were so different from his peers.
The way he read his Bible app every night.
The way he hugged me and asked me every day after school how my day was.
I miss him like a flower needs the rain. Wilted and drooping.
He was an incredible gift. His memory is an incredible gift- although is causes more pain and agony to me right now that I every could have dreamed possible.
Happy Birthday baby. This will be your best one yet.