Saturday, January 26, 2013
It has been almost two weeks since you had to leave us. I miss you so much I don’t have the words to describe how bad my heart hurts. I asked a friend of mine (who also had to say good bye to their baby), if things would ever get better. She suggested that I talk to you as much I could. I tried to talk to you but each time I opened my mouth tears would fall from my eyes and I couldn’t come up with the words I wanted to say. What would I say to you if you were standing in front of me right now? I would just tell you how much I love you, how proud I am of your courage. I would grab your body and squeeze it tight and rub my face in your scruffy hair. Christian, I don’t think that the English language has the words essential to describe how we all miss you. The pain is physical, it is real and I pray that one day there is escape from it. I have never in my life encountered anything as permanent as death. It sounds obvious, but I never understood until now. Everything else in life that sucks has the potential to be better, you have the hope that things will improve and your situation can change. But there is no changing the fact that you are gone from my everyday life. I can’t bring you back and no amount of faith, prayer or belief can change any of this. So where does this leave me? Well it leaves me missing you most of my day. It leaves me having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning. It leaves me with the inability to even look at your picture. I have to try and find some way to guard my heart.
The past two years of my life have been utterly consumed by you, by cancer and by fear. Now we instantly live in a moment with no hospital, no cancer, and no fear but also no you. I find relief from my grief knowing that you no longer have to feel pain, that I don’t have to hear you say, “mommy, my tummy hurts”. I wouldn’t put you through that again for anything. Not even to have you back. That phrase is so engrained in my brain that I actually feel nauseas when I hear it. I can only fathom what you have endured over these past few years and to know that you are now free brings me some measure of peace. Your daddy and I went to the movies the other night; we went and saw, “Les Miserables”. I asked Grammy if it was a bad idea to see a movie like this and she asked me if I could feel any worse, of course the answer was no so we went! And at the end of the movie when Jean Valjean was dying, Fantine (already in heaven) came and sang to him. She sang the words,
“Come with me where chains will never bind you,
All your grief, at last, at last behind you,
Lord in heaven, look down on him in Mercy”
Immediately I was brought back to those last days in the hospital when you lay in your hospital bed. The perfect picture of what people might imagine when they think of what a cancer patient looks like when they die. You where skinny beyond measure, you were swollen from fluid retention; you were incapable of communicating or showing any emotion. You were in essence already gone. This was not the life any mommy wants for their precious five year old baby. So I know that God did in fact show you mercy. He did end your pain and your suffering. He ended years of limitations and grief. He gave you the most amazing eternal gift that I would never ask you to return from.
But Christian despite my excitement for you, there are those of us left behind; your mommy and daddy, Evelyn, Ryan and your grandparents. And we are now struggling to figure out how life will roll on without you. How do I look at pictures of you during your good times (swimming in Nova Scotia, eating cinnamon buns with papa on the back of his truck, golfing with daddy, playing in the park with Evan and Ryan)? I don’t have any answers yet. I haven’t been able to speak to God about everything. I am still so sad and angry. I know that God is bigger than my anger and He understands my pain. But I just don’t know what to say. I mutter out small prayers before bed, that He would show me heaven while I am sleeping, that He would show me you. That I would know you are good and at peace. I pray that God would numb the pain in my heart and provide me good times with my Evan and Ryan. That He would teach me to love Evelyn and Ryan with the same ferocity that I loved you. Days after you were gone I sat in your bedroom and rubbed your favorite golf underwear all over my face (don’t worry sweetheart they were clean!) and wondered if could actually die from missing someone. At least I no longer fear death, in fact I look forward to the day when I can run into your arms and my heart could be whole again.
Christian, I am holding onto one thing, that God is good. I don’t understand anything that has happened, or why it happened but I know God’s vision is perfect. I am still angry about this vision but in time I am hoping my wounds will slowly scar over. Until then I will try to get out of bed each day, breath in and out, smile at the appropriate times and love as I should. I miss you. I love you. You have forever changed my life and I will miss you until the day I die and get to see you again.