I woke up this morning in utter despair.
Then the song that I was listening to last night came back into my head…
…We’re asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it’s unfair
This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
The celebration of life service for Lucas was more beautiful, more touching, more meaningful than I could ever hope for. I learned things about my son that I didn’t even know. I would imagine Lucas in heaven just bawling at its beauty. He was a crier- don’t tell anyone. I felt like every word and every note came straight from heaven. The quartet unknowingly picked my very favorite piece. I know he would have been absolutely beaming at Christian playing the cello. He was incredibly proud of Christian and his gift. To know that Christian played through his pain in order to honor his friend would have blown him away.
Of course he would be been soooooooo embarrassed about all the wonderful things being said about him. I can imagine him being so annoyed, like “no. no. I’m just a normal guy. You guys are being ridiculous.”
He would have laughed so hard at the stories about Jakob and having the brilliant idea to shoot a frisbee while in his hand. The time they accidentally rode their bikes on the highway. John Chamoa saying his legs as an 8 year old were like a baby giraffe. The music played would have moved him. That kid loved music more than anyone I know. It was always rap when he got home from school and of course he wouldn’t use headphones so after a few minutes I would be like “Dude!” ‘Cmon! Brady and Bryleigh do not need to hear this!” most of the rap I hated, but there was a couple that made me want to start dancing. When he started doing his homework he would switch it up, sometimes Dvorak, sometimes Third Day, or Led Zeppelin, or Bob Marley. He went through a strange Nirvana stage too. Anyways I digress.
He would have loved the message the most. I know if he could have picked one thing that was most important to come through in the service it wouldn’t have been about his story, but God’s story. He would have said- just skip all the stuff about me. Just let them all know that Jesus loves them. That Jesus died for them. That this is not goodbye.
It’s see you later.
Its 5am but there is just so much on my heart. I could go on and on and on about visitation last night and how uplifting it was. What a tremendous blessing, an uplifting blessing to hear so many stories about my Lucas. To hear so many kids say “he always smiled at me” “he welcomed me to the school when he was new” “he was always laughing in class” “he was was always such a nice kid.” Those are just paraphrases and the way the kids (and of course adults too) said that was much more beautiful. I absolutely going to talk about that. I’m just so tired right now. This is what I want to say: It just shouldn’t take a death to say those kinds of things. Everyone should be shown that kind of love every day. I know a lot of kids (and adults) that do need to hear that kind of stuff don’t. We just don’t say it enough. Or show it. Especially in high school where, well, its high school. I haven’t been there in a long time but I will remember the insecurity, trying to fit in, not feeling accepted. Lucas could have benefited so, SO, so much from hearing these things during life. They should be said. And shown. Constantly. Lucas didn’t always feel like he had a lot of friends. Its raw, so raw and painful for me to say that. Yet if one kid takes another under his wing and loves on him it will be worth it.
“My command is this, love each other as I have loved you.”
I just met with a group of amazing women. They wanted to pray with me, support me, just be with me. It was so healing. Some of their children knew my son and were able to share stories. We were able to laugh and talk and cry. It was one of the most loved times I have ever experienced. God sent those women to me tonight. I see him in so many little things. So many big things. Everywhere. I see his hand.
I probably should have just gone to bed when I got home from the meeting. However somehow always feel like I need to write. Something just compels me.
The visitation was hard. Just close friends and family. Its not the people thats hard to deal with. I feel their love and support. Their pain is palpable to me and I know they miss Lucas terribly too. Its just a different pain that they have. Its like on a whole other plane. Every time I hug someone a little voice cries out “but you didn’t just lose your son. You don’t know. You can’t. Even. Begin. To. Fathom.” I don’t think the English language really has enough words for pain and loss. You feel pain when you stub your toe. You feel pain when you lose your dog.
When I saw my precious boy in a casket that is when I hit rock bottom. To see the child you gave birth to, you changed his diapers, you brought him to kindergarten, you loved on and cared for every. Single. Day…and its not him any more. That body that you cared for is not him anymore. There will be no more big warm hugs and affectionate head rubs. That caretaking, that physical presence is never coming back.
The pain of losing a child is so deep and dark and gaping. You can’t breathe. You can’t stand. Your entire body and mind is filled with a pain that goes beyond the word pain. Suffering. Agony. Torment. When Jesus was in the garden of gethsemane his torment was so deep he sweat blood. Jesus our Lord begged for God not to put him through the agony of death. He was God, and he still said “if it is your will father take this cup from me.” It gives me comfort that our Lord loved us enough not just to die for us but to go through that pain. That agonizing, tormenting, visceral pain.
So I will wait. I will wait for Jesus to come again to I can be with Lucas.
He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.”
Someone just said in one of the quotes on here, “it must have been hard to live as a high school student when your true home is in heaven.”
Thank you for that. Thank you thank you thank you. Even though reading that hurts like NOTHING ELSE it is so true. I don’t understand God. I’m trying so hard not to be angry. I know you are a loving God. I know you are grieving with us. I know that it is this sinful world that causes hurt and pain and death. I’ve learned it since I was a little girl but when faced with your beautiful son being taken from you, that you loved more than you thought humanly possible, it seems so shallow. I had him for fifteen years but it was not enough. He could have done so much more. As selfish as it sound I NEEDED HIM. He was my rock. I had always heard teenagers were trouble and difficult and made you want to pull out your hair. My Lucas was my rock. As I said before he cared about my feelings ahead of his own always. Sure we fought about silly things. He always wanted me to take him to the gym. He was obsessed with working out. His body was his temple. God’s temple. He wanted it to be the best it could be. I didn’t wanted to take him all the time, I was too tired. Too busy. We fought a bit about him texting his friends when he should be studying. But that was his outlet. The gym was his outlet. He needed that. I was being selfish. Yet if I said to him, cmon Lucas why don’t you get back to homework. Go play piano for a little while. I’ll take you to the gym tomorrow. He would do it. He was my angel and I need him.
I need his hugs. His warmth. His gentle voice saying, “its okay momma”
Why God. Why.
im not doing well today. It’s too much. Just too much. The pain… It’s like being cut open with a scalpel and no anesthesia. I need my boy. He’s the only one who would know what to say. Please come back to me Lucas. Please. Please. Heavenly Father I need every single one of your Angels to lift me up this week.
What is your only comfort
in life and death?
That I am not my own,
but belong with body and soul,
both in life and in death
He has fully paid for all my sins
from all the power of the devil.
He also preserves me in such a way
not a hair can fall from my head;
Its 6 am. I know alot of people are awake usually at this time but not me. I have three of my sweet babies and a kitty in my bed pushing me out, and of course my mind is racing. I can’t shut it down.
I want the world to know what a loss this was. What an incredible person Lucas was. His heart….oh his heart. It was as pure as gold. I always thought to myself when he was alive, I don’t deserve this boy. I don’t deserve this boy. What will stand out to me the most is his compassion. He understood and loved me like no one else could. He knew I had depression and often had bad days. The first thing he would say when he came home was, “how was your day momma?” “what did you do?” and he would give me a big hug. Whenever he sensed something was wrong, he would walk up to me with his arms open. Precious, precious, boy. I don’t understand why God needed him so early but he truly was an angel already on earth. I never heard him say a bad word about anyone. Ever. He just wanted to love people, show them respect, kindness, make their day a little better. He may not have always been understood by his friends because of his maturity. He was quiet. Didn’t always engage in typical high school drama. It was always hard for him to fit in because he just wasn’t like his peers. It was hard for him. I fear he may have been a bit withdrawn, maybe even shy. He often expressed to me how hard it was for him to talk to other people. He really bonded to his two close friends, Christian and Jakob. They were his circle, his comfort, his confidantes. Though he may not have always had the ability to connect with everyone he wanted to, he loved everyone. Anyone and everyone.
What a loss. Why God………
I need to write this too because it helps me to get it out. I hesitate because I don’t want anyone who is not mature to read this. However I know we live in a broken and sinful world and things like this happen. I don’t understand why and no one ever really will. I have a burning image in my head of my little boy after the accident. He is not little but he will always be my baby. He was thrown sixty feet into the snow and when I saw him I saw his crumpled bleeding body in the snow. I understand now how soldiers are never the same after war. The image will not leave me. It plays over, and over, and over, and over and over. Its too much for a mother to bear. I know they say God will not give us too much to bear and maybe in heaven I will understand why I had to see that. God knows but I don’t understand. It just keeps replaying. It hurts just as much as the thought that I will never see him again. That he had to die this way.