My heart hurts. This is so painful. I miss him terribly. I want to visit with him. I want to cook for him. I want to hug him. I want him to hug me. I want to go see him in his stinky little apartment. I want to see his mess strewn all over his stinky little apartment and watch him hustle around trying to make it look better when he sees his mom at his door. I want to see that sweet, shy little smile he gave me sometimes. I want to see that ornery little grin he had other times. I want to see the condemning look he could get in his eyes when he thought I wasn’t eating right, then watch him reach for the offensive food he just condemned me for eating. I want to hear him argue with me. I want to hear his arguments – they always impressed me with the depth of his thinking. I want to see him meet the love of his life. I want to watch the transformation I know that love would’ve brought about in him. I want to attend his wedding. I want to hold little blond-haired, blue-eyed grandbabies. I want him back. I want to be able to accept what God has decided for his life. I want to be able to accept what God has decided for my life, for my husband’s life, for my children’s lives, for my grandchildren’s lives.
Accepting the death of one of my children seems to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever faced. It makes me so angry that I have to accept this that I want to scream and yell stupid cuss words that I don’t think are very becoming for anyone to say. But, I’m that angry, that crushed, that hurt, that disappointed, that frustrated, that unaccepting of this. I want to be able to say, “Thy will be done, Lord.” But, at this point, it seems a moot point. His will has been done, whether I agree to it or not. But, I want to be accepting of HIs will; in fact, I want to be thankful to be in His will again. I want this wrestling with God to come to an end and peace to fill my heart again.
I want to be happy again. I want to feel like a whole person again. I want my family to feel whole again. I want my children to be happy. I want them to be comfortable around their dad and I and not feel like they have to be careful what they say so they don’t make us more upset than they believe we already are. I want family get-togethers to be free of the tension that hangs in the air as a result of the sorrow that is draped across everyone’s shoulders. I want to stop thinking he will show up for family get-togethers. I want to not jump to look out the window when I hear a motorcycle coming down the road. I want the gruesome imaginings to stop. I want to hear his voice again. I want to go to his brother’s house and see him piddling around his garage with him. I want to see his motorcycle in his brother’s garage and not have to wish his behind was on it. I want to not miss him. I want to not have a reason to miss him. I want him back.
I want the anger to cease. I want the tears to dry up. I want to be able to stand up straight again without it being a conscious choice. I want to be able to let the weight of the world be on God’s shoulders, instead of feeling like I’m carrying it. I want to be able to accept that this has happened and it will never reverse while we are on this earth. I really do want that. I want to be able to see past this sadness and be thankful for what God has blessed me with, again. He has truly blessed me and I know that. I’m thankful, but not as a consistent way of life, like it used to be for me. I want to be content in Him, not longing for something I can no longer have. I want, again, for my thoughts of heaven to be about seeing my Maker, not just my son.