I have been asking myself, over and over, why the pain has not subsided one tiny little iota. Why I simply cannot just move on with every tasks and every day parenting without it feeling like I am dragging a boulder along with me.
It has after all been nine months. Isn’t it supposed to get a little better by now?
A very important person in my life told me, “I just can’t be reminded every day. I cannot go through the trauma every day. If I don’t move on I can’t function.”
I wish and yet don’t wish I could do this. Of course it would feel so great to have one day without being under a heavy blanket. One day that I don’t cry in the car so no one can see me. One day that I feel like I don’t feel like I can muster up the gumption to be what I need to be.
Last night I could not fall asleep and I was going over and over in my mind how badly I wish I had a documentary of Lucas’ life. Every minute of every day. A snapshot of each moment I could flip through and see his moments of joy and happiness and accomplishment and even just the mundane moments.
That I could relive with him so many of those moments even just one more time.
I took him for granted.
He was my baby, my hard fought for baby that I raised by myself until he was two and I don’t need to tell you about what a mother child bond is like. The strongest bond on earth. There is no greater love other than Jesus’ love in my mind and the bonds are like steel. I would have laid down my life for him. Few parents would describe their bond with their children as anything less. He was also my firstborn. I always felt a very special connection with him. We were on the same wavelength. We had something very very special that does not always occur with parental bonds because I have experienced it myself.
Then one day that bond of steel was severed, suddenly, in the blink of an eye, chopped apart with a swift sharp blow.
Now as to having some sort of connection with his spirit or soul or yada yada I have no clue. I don’t even know what to say about that. I think I am still traumatized at this point to decide whether or not I even think it’s true. He is in heaven with God, what would his spirit be doing down here in this realm of sin and darkness. I just don’t know.
All I know is this, that in an instant everything I thought to be true became questionable. For a mother to lose her child shakes up everything I thought was good in the world.
I have to fight for it every day. It’s called faith. I have to have faith that God is good and he loves me and somehow this will all work out. That in heaven it will all be made clear. Its a fight that is taxing, exhausting, when all I want to do much of the time is lay down and die.
Because the singular thing that i want most deeply and resolutely is to see my baby boy again. Every human cell and molecule and atom wants to be with him. To give up EVERYTHING to be with him again. The other end of that broken steel bond is like a magnetic pull to which there is no resolution.
We weren’t finished yet. I was supposed to have so many years with him, I took for granted how much time I had with him and I had four other kids. There was never enough time for anybody. Regret. Regret is the worst thing in the world.
I HATE cliches like “you never know how much time you have” and “enjoy every moment.” Blech. The problem is you don’t really believe it. Not until after. Not until the time is gone and the moments are done.
Its no secret that the only way I get up every morning is my faith- that the incredible all knowing all powerful God that created US is still in control. That I know he wants me to be here and he has a plan for me.
This verse is amazing:
His compassions are new every morning. His love is there every morning. Every morning when I wake up to a racing heart with anxiety and feel the weight of another day without him- his faithfulness is still there. He IS yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.