I hadn't planned on posting today. My day has been busy pulling weeds and watering our somewhat large garden. The weather is beautiful outside and the girls and I have enjoyed our time looking at our many vegetables that are almost ready to be picked! So, like I said...I hadn't planned on posting, but here I am. Mostly, I am just feeling sorry for myself again. The same ol' "missing my son" record that plays over and over in my head.
Since we have church tonight, I like for Macy to take a nap. After all of my gardening, I thought that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a nap myself since baby Maegan was sleeping as well. No sooner do I close my eyes but the images of Mark in the hospital flood my mind. The morning that we turned off his ventilator...my husband holding our sweet little boy in his arms...rocking him back and forth...praying for a miracle. Me, literally screaming where the whole hospital could hear me, sobbing, feeling that I was going to die of a broken heart any second...in utter disbelief that this could all be happening. Our family, surrounding us in silence and tears, losing their nephew and grandson as they watched. The most wonderful and sweetest doctor ever, using her stethoscope to listen to Mark's chest for a heartbeat...pronouncing him dead after 12 minutes. Mark, my sweet Mark...gone...losing the pink color from his skin...growing cold...being placed next to me so that I could hold him one last time. I feel it all. Like it is happening all over again. Regardless of the joy that I try to imagine in my son beholding Heaven and all of it's splendor, of him being swept up in the arms of Jesus and being loved with a love that even his own mother couldn't give him...it hurts...with every deep part of my soul...it hurts.
These thoughts, these memories, come often. The horrible images of Mark in the water, the imagined images of him struggling and him wondering where his mommy and daddy were, the screaming, the helicopter, the ride to the hospital, seeing him hooked up to tubes and machines, not being able to look into his beautiful brown eyes, holding his hands and praying that he would squeeze me back...removing the life support. Even when a couple of days have passed without them...WHAM!...there they are again. I have no control over them and I have yet to figure out how to deal with them. I try to focus on the happy memories and everything that was wonderful about Mark's short 2 years here. But even thinking about all of the love that Mark was surrounded with and how he enjoyed each moment of his life...the bad memories still come. There are times that I wonder why God hasn't taken them from me despite my pleading. Why he hasn't eased the torture of it all. I have prayed and prayed for just that. Then, I wonder if the pain is for His purposes. This physical agony that I find myself in over and over and over must be part of His will for my life. Grief itself must be a refining fire of some kind.
I have no speculation of what our future lives will be like here on earth. I can only wake up each morning and surrender my life to God and His purposes. There are days that I don't think that I will make it another step...then I just take another...and another. I have set my course to follow His will, even now, when I don't feel like it. I will stand firm in the fact that God loves me and my family...that He will guide us until we make it home and find the face of Jesus and my son...arms open wide, running to greet me...just like he did here.
Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. Job 13:15
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A Spacious Place
1 year ago
I know.
ReplyDeleteI replayed the images from my son's horrific death for a very long time. I had to fall asleep with the TV on for the first year because if there was silence, my head would go "there". Any quiet moments were consumed with those images. I hated being alone. I hated peace and quiet.
Our grief counselor explained to us that our brains are trying to process this horrific event that makes no sense to a rational mind. It takes a long time. But eventually it will stop. I was so grateful when mine did.
You are grieving sweet girl, the season will change. It won't always be like this.
Hugs,
Trisha
I am so deeply sorry for your pain. I wish I knew how you could replace those awful memories with happier ones. I pray that over time, like Trisha said, it will pass. Just picture Mark in Heaven, eating some yummy Kraft cheese (my favorite too!) with Jesus, helping Jesus water the absolutely breathtaking, unimaginable, most beautiful garden to ever be seen. I don't often hear people talk about Jesus being funny, but I can't help but think that he has a humorous side to him...and I can just picture Mark watering the plants and then squirting Jesus, just like he did with his sisters. I can picture Jesus and Mark both screaming with the Tarzan voices at the top of their lungs (just like my son does). I picture Jesus tickling Mark and making him what I call "belly laugh." I bet Jesus is so much fun to play with. He's happy up there and one day you'll get to see just how much fun he's been having. Praying for you to receive peace of mind...May God Bless You.
ReplyDeleteI understand. Sometimes it's easier to keep your eyes open than close them.
ReplyDeletePraying for your peace,
MB
Angie, we love you all so much. We continue to pray for you all, that you can make it through this terrible time of missing your sweet Mark. Thanks for baring your soul; it helps me pray for you. I think you must be right about the refining through grief. I'm so sorry you're experiencing it, though!
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