There's no tragedy in life like the death of a child. Things never get back to the way they were.

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Monday, August 9, 2010

Second verse...same as the first

August 10, 2007...exactly one year before Mark left us.

There are so many "dreaded" days for us now. Mark's birthday, the day of the accident, the day that we took him off of life support, the day of his funeral, each and every holiday and special occasion...and well, every day in between. They cloud all of the happy memories that we had with him. And when I search through more and more pictures and see how happy we happy he just hurts more.

I feel like I am trying so hard. SO HARD! To survive, to thrive and to have peace in my heart and live my life in a way that is pleasing to God. It just isn't easy. It takes every ounce of energy that I have to get through the day without throwing in the towel. And, I'm not quite sure that I am any further along in letting go of my anger and bitterness than I was at this time last year. I have become a broken record that continues to play the same old sad song. Feeling sorry for myself because my son is dead and there isn't anything that I can do about it.

There are reasons that God puts us through the fire...I wish I knew why but it is safe to say that I wouldn't understand anyway. When I ponder the fact that God has a purpose in all of this...I have to try and imagine what a different person I will be in 10 or 20 years. I most likely won't even remember the person that I am now. Albeit a small encouragement in this vastness of grief. If I trust God, I have to trust that somehow, He will bring me through it for His glory. I will always suffer the loss...there is no other choice since Mark is not coming back to me. God may restore my joy fully in the years to come and He may not...He may grant me true peace, but He may not. Regardless of what He does with my life in the years that I have left...they will be for Him.

For now...two years after we watched our Marco Polo take his last breath when God did not perform the miracle that we all knew that He his daddy held him and rocked him while I screamed and cried and beat the hospital bed with my fists...after I held my son's lifeless body for hours before they took him from me...and after the world turned upside down...I still miss him. Every second of every day. My heart still feels as though it will explode at any is hard to cope.

I will keep putting one foot in front of the other...breathe in...breathe out. I have no other choice. God, I trust you.


  1. I am sorry. You don't deserve this pain.


  2. Oh..Angie, I wish with every ounce of my being that I could take away your pain and suffering. I'm sooo sorry that you are living with this misserable pain. I want you to know that even though the miles separate us, you are never ever far from my thoughts.
    We love you so much.

  3. You don't come across as angry or bitter, Angie - not to me. Grieving very rightly and in terrible suffering, but not angry and bitter. You bring encouragement and hope and make an impossible road easier for others who suffer, but at a hellish personal cost.

    None of this makes it worth it, I know. Sometimes people have said, "Well, at least there is comfort in what God will do for others through your situation."

    But my friend Jayne got it right: "Nothing in the universe can make it worth it. Not our growth, not ability to help others, nothing, nothing - except Him." She knows that more of Him, a depth of relationship with the Lord, is the only solid, lasting hope there is. In Him, there is the promise that everything that has been broken and taken and destroyed can one day be restored.

    You're already all too aware of this. There is no going back, there is no undoing, there is no relief and there are no pat answers. The resolution won't come in this life. It IS coming, but it is not here now.

    Meanwhile, I'm thankful for you. But I wish every day that you didn't have to know what you know to put my thoughts and feelings into words so well. I want your life to be the way it was before. I want that little boy back with his sisters and his Dad and his Mom - for good.

    Missing Mark and longing for the day of Redemption,

    Cathy in Missouri

  4. I've visited your blog though never commented But "hearing" so much pain from you hurts my heart. Any words I'd try to offer would be awkward and inadequate, but I feel like silence isn't appropriate, either. I don't know if it brings a fleeting shred of minuscule comfort to learn that your family is thought of often and your son missed by people you'll never meet. It doesn't change a thing for you, but I thought you might want to know. Hoping and praying that somehow, at some point (*soon*), the overwhelming heartache eases a little.