Another Friday, Another Week

Here it is again the day of the week that I just dread, Friday. It is amazing how even subconsioucly know this day is coming. Days are just flying by and I have lost recolection of what day it us but dispite that my body and mind know it is Friday. I could not figure out why I was having trouble sleeping again. Last night was a horrible night of sleep and I got up this morning confused as to why when I reailzed it was Friday again. 5 weeks since George left us. That realization every week is just like someone knocked you on the ground and knocked the breath from you.

I went upstairs to be with the boys and Hugh. The inflatable bed was up and there was George's monkey blanket I made for him when I was pregnant laying on the bed. I curled up on the bed under that blanket that use to keep my angel warm. Suddenly, I could feel him and it was as if he was there in my arms laying on the bed. It was a very odd feeling and I began to smell him. It was is if I could close my eyes and he would be there laying in my arms that now held a pillow. I realized it was the draft from his room that brought the sweet smell of my little boy to me from under his door. Part of me wanted to get up becuase it hurt so bad to be there but the other part of me could not leave for that moment was just like he was there and I just couldn't bring myself to leave that moment.

It is odd how remembering him makes your heart hurt but you soul smile. The memories of the moments he shared with us were so great that you find it hard to be sad about them but rather the fact you will have no more. What we had planned for our family was all crushed in a few moments but will last a lifetime. I've been doing a lot of reading about having more children after something like this. We both wanted more kids before loosing George and now I think it is even more prominent but it is also coupled with terrible fear. As much as we have given our lives to God, nothing can take away that sort of fear.

Hugh and I decided that if God gives us another child, then great and if not, that is ok too. We have decided that we are not going to worry about what everyone else things for once. No child would ever be able to replace George in our hearts. There will be no good time to have another baby because it will never be easy and it will be filled with so many mixed emotions. We were reading a lot that other people went through after the sudden loss of a child, and the general consensus was that you will know when it is the right time and that it could be right away or it could be never and to not let anyone infulence you either way.

I've come to realize as time goes on, the pain will never be gone. We have talked to so many people who have lost their children. When George had passed a woman from our old church had given a letter with a prayer on it to my mother in law for us. It had a poem on it that she used when she lost her daughter. She lost her daughter over 20 years ago and still misses her and hurts. The thought of that is so powerful and overwhelming at the same time. The prayer goes like this:

I take my loved on by the hand and lead him to you. God of love, Here is George. Accept my love and thanksgiving as I entrust him into your loving care. I want George to be free to be at home with you. I ask that you save a place for me there beside him and that you be my loving presence in all the lonely moments that await me. I ask that you fill me with motivations and energy in the days ahead when I feel like giving up. Remind me often of my true homeland when I am caught up in the desolation of the journey. Help me to find joy in the people, events, and the beauty of nature which surronds me. I want to believe that George and I will celebrater our love when we are in your presence forever. May this truth sustain me in the days to come. Take my sand and aching heart and comfort me. Comfort me for I can only feel hollowness and emptiness. God of the sorrowing, draw near.

Amen

Initally it did not mean that much to me but the past few days I have read it over and over again. This week would have marked my little boy being 6 months old. I could not wait for that day and I can't tell you exactly why. It was just some sort of milestone that I was looking forward to but one I never bothered thinking about with the other kids. How ironic it is that George never made it to that day and I know that it will be a pretty bad day but I know we will make it through.

Yesterday when I was at the church, I stopped by the memorial garden to talk to my man and let him know how much I missed him. Last week I had put a rose on his grave. It just baffled me when I went back that it was not withered or dead looking. The rose was just as it was the day I put it there. That has never happened before. The weather has been so crazy that I expected it to be withered and dead but found that it wasn't. I went home and hadn't thought much about it until today.

I thought about the awe that I felt the moment I saw it still there perfect just as I left it. Then today, I realized that it was the same way I had given my little boy back to God and that is how he is now in heaven. The very thought of my boy in heaven is so emotional. He is as perfect as that yellow rose that I placed at his grave. When I join him someday, it will be just like the flower I left for him, perfect and just as he was the day he left us.

It was also a sign that dispite what I feel now, I too can perservere even in the tough circumstances. A week later with no water that flower should have been dead and it was still thriving and as strong as the day I placed it there. The rose had been stripped of everything...thorns and leaves along with the majority of the stem. God has placed us in this unknown wilderness of parental grief but in the end we too can still be as strong, if not stronger then before. That doesn't mean that getting to that point will not be hard, it only means that it is possible dispite what we are feeling and going through right now. We are that rose, stripped down to our souls but strong and still thriving dispite the changing climate of grief that changes just as the weather does.