Friday, January 17, 2014

I would dig through the earth.

Yesterday, I looked around my home. At the pictures on the wall, his things sitting in the corner, the med cabinet that is now empty of all his needs. All I could see and feel were reminders that my child is not coming back. This last week has been especially difficult for me. It's been 3.5 months since Wyatt has died and the world around me has moved on. It keeps going.

How can 3.5 months feel like so long, yet feel like it was just yesterday too?

Yesterday I spent time sitting at my son's grave. The place where his body lies under the cold winter ground below me. Sometimes I just need to be there, with him.

As I walked up to his Superman themed marker yesterday I felt the urge to fall to my knees and begin to dig. To claw at the frozen ground. To dig through the dirt, the mud, the earth. To dig down to the box my son's body now lies in. I want to hold him one more time. To just hold what's left of his body that once came from my own.

I stared at the ground and the things that have been left for him: the green matchbox truck that has been buried in snow showers and soaked by rain now has dirt dried on its side, a snowman that hangs on a hook and lights up when it gets dark -- its globe sparkles in the sunlight, the Superman ornament whose glitter reflects the light of the day as it hangs with the snowman on its stake in the ground, a shiny purple and green hummingbird that bounces as the wind blows, the Christmas wreaths and decorations left from his first Christmas in Heaven. His little space is cluttered with gifts of remembrance and love.

I found myself crouched down beside his things and whispering "How did this happen?"

I know what happened. I know exactly how it happened. Sometimes it hits me so hard it feels as if I've been physically beaten. The breath knocked out of me, my body damaged, my heart torn in two. But I still found myself asking this question.

My body began to shake as I cried when I sat in my car preparing to drive away from my son again. After some time I finally left the cemetery and drove back to our home. It was time for the girls to be coming home from school. I could see the school buses lining up around the schools as I pulled away from Wyatt's space in the cemetery.

The rest of my life, living without one of my children, feels like forever.
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2 comments:

  1. Not a day goes by that I don't check your blog. I may not always have a minute to write a comment but am always thinking about you and your family. I cannot offer much but words and thoughts of comfort. As for hearing Wyatt's voice, that must have been a sign saying he is okay now and still right by your side. <3

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  2. Oh, that picture - Wyatt's smirk. Oh.

    I'll take the "I MISS HIM" I feel and times it by infinity

    and I still won't know how you feel.

    No words can describe that.

    No wonder you want to start digging.

    Heaven, come quickly.

    Waiting here, too,

    CiM xoxo

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