This past Sunday I had that rare treat of being (kind of) alone in the house. E was taking a much-needed nap and Tom and P were out running some errands. A few days before, I had recorded a movie called “Rabbit Hole”…for the reason that it’s about a couple dealing with the loss of their child. In my grief I tend to gravitate towards scripture, books, people, etc. who can help me define what it is I’m going through. I don’t know anyone personally who has lost their child, but I have found people via social media and sometimes it helps to watch a movie about the subject as well. It’s just good to know I’m not alone, I guess. No matter how many people rally around me, no matter how many friends encourage and walk beside me, they are not feeling what I feel. The total and complete loss, the pain of so deep a sorrow that I no longer “just cry”, I sob. Sometimes it even gets to be too much to see other families so complete and happy. All their kids are healthy and thriving, and the complaints of typical, crazy childhood behavior makes me want to scream, “at least your children are alive”!
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate every sweet and comforting gesture by those friends. Truly! And honestly I couldn’t get through every day without them. But every now and then I’m just plain jealous of happy, whole families.
(Sidebar) What I really don’t get is, we adopted C out of obedience. We adopted a special needs child who no one wanted, a child God brought us to. So why was he taken from us? Why does obedience to God sometimes lead to grief? I am so confused. But that’s another blog post.
Anyway, in this movie, “Rabbit Hole”, there’s this scene between the mother who lost her son and her mother who also lost her son 11 years previously. If anyone wants to know a tiny bit what grief feels like, this sums it up very well…
I scrape my knuckles on that brick A LOT. Maybe someday the weight of it will be more of a soothing reminder of my amazing son and his short life, and it will be fine. But right now it’s mostly just pain. A heavy, blunt pain.
Last night I had a dream. We were frantically running around the house, cleaning it up, and I remember telling P to make sure his room is picked up and C’s bed was ready for him…because, you see, C was coming back! It was all so real, so vivid. When I woke up I felt happy again for just a moment. Then it all came crashing back and I realized it was just a dream and C is not coming back after all. After that brutal realization, I did my
crying sobbing, got out of bed, and went about my day. Just like I do everyday…one foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.
All with the heaviness of a brick in my pocket.