It's been a busy week.
And to be honest, I've also been trying to distract myself.
It's hard living without you, hard living with the knowledge that you won't be coming back to me in this life.
So this week, I've tried to ignore it.
But still, it's there, underlying everything.
You're the reason Lucy's death tore me up. You're the reason we were at Dream Nights at the zoo. You're the "why" I chose to go back to school, chose social work, and chose to work where I do. And you are the reason I know, or at least am learning, to let others make choices.
This week I scheduled Michael's first time to go to the temple, and I didn't even think to ask him which temple. I just chose the one down the road from us, 'cause that makes sense. But when I let him know (notice I didn't ask here either, I just informed him), he retorted that he should have some say and I probably scheduled the wrong temple. Wrong temple?? How can a temple be "wrong?" Except I did, and it was.
Last summer we went to the Saratoga Springs temple open house. The Spirit whispered to me that this was my only chance to be in a Celestial Room with you. It was also the last time Michael took a picture with you outside of the hospital. Yeah, I scheduled the wrong temple. So then I fixed it. And I told a colleague that apparently, even with my training, I forget to allow some people (my kids??) to direct their own lives. I guess I'm still learning, right?
Anyway, I've been pondering a bunch of things this week. I'm glad playlists don't get "worn out" 'cause mine has pretty much been on repeat for about six months now. There's a lot of songs about home and hope and gentle melodies. I still don't have a grasp on this; the ideas are still pretty nebulous, but I'll try to explain the thoughts that go through my mind.
We often talk about you going Home, and home, either here or in heaven, is a goal. Most Fridays I'm the last one out of the clinic. It's generally a slow day anyway, and most are off early. I love my job, really! But my last client doesn't come until 5. I can love my job and be ready to be done by Friday evening. Sometimes I'm a little envious of colleagues who leave earlier on Fridays and get to go home, but I still have work to do.
You finished your work and went Home, and I miss you. You went Home. Someday I'll come too. But for now, I still have work to do here. Does that all make sense? As humans, we need things to make sense; stories are attractive because they have a beginning, a middle and an end. And I am still trying to figure this all out. It still doesn't make sense in my mind that a child goes Home before a parent, but I guess that's the difference between fiction and reality. This is reality, and it doesn't always make sense.
Right now, sitting outside in the cool of the morning, I hear crickets chirping, birds calling, Simba's tags rattle as he shakes his head, Sophie's toenails scratch on the patio, and I miss you. Dew drops cling to blades of grass untouched by the rising sun, the green leaves form a border under a clear blue sky, and the hummingbird just zipped back to its nest from the feeder. It's beautiful out here, peaceful.
Your stone is now in place. I drove by after work on Monday and it greeted me, your smiling face, the grin that lit up my world and is now only in pictures and video.
 |
| June 29, 2010 |
Were there people as anxious for you on the other side as well? Was there a big sign? A party? You did it, my son. You finished your work here. You went Home. I am so glad for you, and yet, this world seems lonelier, darker somehow, and I miss you.
Love,
Mama
No comments:
Post a Comment