Some days I think I’m doing okay. Sometimes even well. But then I’m not. I’m just not. I’m just NOT OKAY. Yesterday was an okay day. Today has not been an okay day. I do things, like write this blog, that make me feel better. It makes me feel like I’m talking to you, and you are listening and shouldering this burden with me. I read your comments and am encouraged. It makes me forget, for a few minutes, what is going on in my life, and in our family.
Then, I turn the computer off. I’m still okay for a few minutes, maybe even a couple of hours. Then it all comes crashing back in. That moment. That day. That week. The visitation. The funeral. Memories of him coming down the road on his motorcycle. Watching him take his helmet off in my driveway. Putting it on the seat of his motorcycle. His gait. His arm slung over my shoulders. His sweet soft-spoken, “Hi, Mom.” His eyes searching for his dad. Finding him and moving away from his hugging mom to greet his dad. Hanging out with his dad in the living room until something from the kitchen smells good. Back in the kitchen with me. That day. That one horrific day that turned into that one horrific week that has turned into a horrific chore getting through each day. I see my other children’s sad faces on that day. I’ve never seen anything so sad, but I was so heart-broken that I hardly even acknowledged them. But, I will never forget their faces that day. Around noon that day, the investigating officer came to our house to offer her condolences and explain what she knew about what had happened in the accident that took our son’s life. I remember looking around at everyone gathered around our dining room table. My husband, our children, our parents, my brother. I remember the sergeant asking if everyone was there before she began her explanation. I looked around and counted heads, like I’ve done for the past 25+ years. Someone was missing. Who was missing? This is probably the most important meeting we’ve ever had. Who is missing? Oh, God. Oh, God. This meeting is because of you. Because of the one missing. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget it because similar things happen almost daily. There’s a car that must belong to someone who lives on our road south of us. Every few days I see that car coming down the road. It looks just like his car did. Every time I see it my heart leaps and I think he’s coming for a visit. Then I remember. The last time all the kids were here for dinner, I thought I heard the back door open and close. He’s finally here. Now we can eat. Oh, God. He’s not here for dinner. He won’t be coming for dinner………..ever again.
I haven’t prayed very much since my son’s passing. Nothing too deep, anyway. I do pray one particular prayer over and over and over again. Please help us, God. I know He does. Even when I don’t feel like He does, I know He does. I know He will never leave us or forsake us.
“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2