I came home last night from a support group meeting. It is always a difficult experience but a blessed one. We share our stories and thoughts as we face today.
We were joined by newly bereaved parents of a little boy. Listening to their story brought up so many memories of the days in the beginning. The waves of grief so high and fast they keep you down feeling like you would drown. There is no light. No air. Just darkness and grief. The questions that they asked I can remember asking. How does this work? What support is there for families? What do you do?
In listening to the story, the mom said her house was just too quiet. This struck me. The silence is deafening. The early morning hours, you wake and forget this nightmare that you are living. Laying in bed, barely awake, listening for those footsteps, the “good morning mama”….. it never comes from him. My eyes welled with tears. The feeling is so
My Zachary was a lot like like a college student although he was only six when he passed away. He would never go to bed. There was always one more something…. book, glass of water, hug, kiss and “I love you”. Seven or eight times out of bed and back to bed later he would pass out. Sleeping in any position he landed and nothing would disturb him.
On work day mornings, I would wake up a few times and he would finally stir. I could literally dress him fully while he was still asleep. When he finally woke up, he would stumble down the hallway, hitting the walls, eyes at half mast, and start the day. He looked like a college student waking after a night of partying. Always made me laugh.
On the weekends, he would always wake before me, at some ungodly hour, and come into my bed. I could hear his scurried footsteps then his little voice, “Mama, can we snuggle and watch a show”, as he crawled into my bed. I miss those mornings watching silly cartoons or Toy Story for the millionth time. He would snuggle in to me and just be there. I could smell his hair, listen to his heartbeat, and feel my arms around him.
It’s the little things you miss the most. The deafening silence of no scurried footsteps or early morning snuggles. I have my Grace who will often, like her brother, do the same routine. I cherish those moments and breath them in. Knowing they are fleeting as she won’t do that forever and missing the little blue eyed boy who would have done the same.