Monday, April 23, 2012
No salve for my soul
I saw something amazing today. On www.wimp.com there is a video showing a time lapse of a girl from birth through 12 years old. I hesitantly clicked play and watched as she grew from a newborn, grew hair, developed her smile, thinned, chubbed, thinned again and grew taller. Just like Willow. I watched and as she reached her birthday a 1 would appear, then a 2, then a 3. I watched a little further but just couldn't continue. It's just not fair. It was so sweet to see this little girl turn two, and as beautiful as she is she doesn't hold a candle to my Willow. When the three appeared, I saw the phase that Willow would have reached. It is amazing the growth that happens between 2 and three and it makes me so mad that I do not get to see her there. WHY!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?! I want to scream it and run and pound my fist into something and scream why. Why do so many others get to see their children grow up and I don't get to see Willow? WHY!!!!!!! I want her back so bad and there is nothing, NOTHING I can do about it! I can weep in silence, I can look at pictures and watch videos. I can try to remember moments that I haven't brought back yet. I have certain scenes that play over and over but I want new ones. Ones that I have forgotten. I want them to come back. I WANT THEM BACK!!!!!!! I want my memories! I want to smell her hair. I want to tickle her and feel her claw her little nails into my neck as she squeals with laughter. I want to rid myself of this God forsaken emptiness, this loneliness and this ache I have that cannot be eased. There is no salve for my soul. There is only weeping, and wanting, and pain. Dammit its not fair!!!!!! Some whine about staying up at night with a crying baby. Some whine about their kids misbehaving at school. Some whine about the cost of this or that or the inconvenience of their children. What do I have? Take it! Take it all! Give me years of no sleep and poverty and deprivation of everything else in this world I want but give me her hand to hold! I don't care about writing anything that someone might get inspiration from. I don't care about being meaningful or insightful or funny or comforting or wise or anything! I want my baby girl!!!!! I want to see her hair grow down her back and hear her speech develop and have a conversation with her and hear her back talk me and anything, ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!! I don't want to learn to live with the grief. I don't want to honor her memory. I don't want to teach others how to deal with the loss of a child. I want WILLOW!!!! Why did she have to die? SHe died. She's dead. I don't want to hear about her being in heaven. Screw the streets of gold and crystal sea. I've got a back yard with a paralyzed tricycle. I've got a front yard with her swing hanging from it that no one can swing in. I've got a room full of play doh and Barbies and sheep, dear God the sheep and the Hello Kitties and the little clothing that only my little Willow could have fit into, that she likely would be outgrowing. I have money that should have been spent on diapers and Lucky Charms and cute clothes and more sheep. I've got everything except for my Willow, and everything means nothing. I don't want to hear about how I need to be there for my wife and kids. I know I have them and I will get my head straight before they get home and they won't read this and they won't know that this is happening and I will delight in them when they return but right now, in this moment, I am as lonely and full of bitter anguish as any man can be and all I want, all I want is my sweet little 2 year old who will never be three or four or five or a kindergardner or a best friend or a crush or a graduate or a wife or a mother or a driver or employed or anything ever again because she is gone. WHY!!!!!!!!!! Don't talk to me of fair or God's grace or heaven or grace. These might become real to me someday but right now, in this time and in this place, Hell is all I really know.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Thats wisterical
So hereI sit, needing to take a shower and head out to the KOA to see Uncle Dan and Aunt Kay but something struck me and I need to write. Please bear with me as this may seem like a long rambling gardening talk but there is something I need to say.
I recently built a pergola for our Wisteria to keep it off of our telephone pole. Being addicted to building and a perfectionist about such things I decided that the Wisteria was too big and needed a second pergola to make it look right. Then more ideas took hold, decking the pergolas, building benches, a fire pit and more gardening. Today I set out to start the second pergola and I dug the hole for the first post. Having gotten it set and cemented in I took a good look at the Wisteria. It is a mess. The base cannot be seen due to all of the new growth sprouting out everywhere and there are so many vines coming off of it that I had no idea which were going to go to which pergola. I had an idea that I would take some of the younger vines, strip the new sprouts off of them and braid them to add the lagniappe (a little something extra) that I am always looking for. Having braided a five foot section I saw that the base of the vine was starting to become more visible. I imagined in my mind the finished product with the leaves and flowers at the top showing the delicate nature of the wisteria and the strong, rugged nature of the base of the wisteria showing how much strength is needed for so much beauty to develop. So I began to clear away more young growth. At this point it occurred to me that I needed to have Shelby there because as our resident master gardner she would be able to tell me if I was doing too much and hurting the plant or if it was all okay. The resilience of this plant though reminded me that in all that we have done to chop away at it I was certain to be okay. I found a second place where I could braid another section, about 4 feet long, and it looks just beautiful. I started to separate the vines as to which was going to go to which pergola and I had a moment that took my breath away. I stopped, stepped back about ten feet and looked at what I had done. The beauty of this plant was always there, but certain aspects were unable to be seen until the young life was stripped away. My family.
I have a wife who drives me crazy. My daughter is so "hidden" in so many ways that it frustrates me at times trying to find her heart. My son, he is pure fun and adventure but when it comes to getting him to do something so simple as wash the dishes he becomes one of my biggest challenges. They all have at times frustrated me to the point of anger, acting in ways I never should have, saying things I never should have and behaving in ways that I should be severely ashamed of. I love them more than I could possibly put into words, every one of them, with all of their quirks and things that make them not like me, so very different and so hard to understand. Our family is beautiful. At our base we are strong, rugged, and at times in need of pruning. The further out we stretch, in our relationships with our friends and family we are beautiful but very few will ever see the strength it takes to keep us alive and flourishing. So many thing we never saw or never knew, only assumed, until our young life was stripped away from us. There are so many beautiful flowers that will never grow on that wisteria because the new life is gone. My pruning will make it beautiful and stronger, more beautiful than it could have been without the support of the pergolas and the tender loving care that we all put into its maintenance. My family.
If we are to be successful, I need to be that base of the wisteria. The strong part that my family can glean from. I need to rely on an extensive root system of friends and family who will feed me and nourish me so that I can be strong for them. We all need to absorb the life giving water so that we can feed the trunks of the trees that we are intended to feed. In my family I am the trunk, but I may just be a root in your family tree that feeds you and helps you to be that strong trunk that your vines and flowers need in order to grow and be stronger and more beautiful. Perhaps God, the master gardner had to strip away our young life to make us what He intends for us to be. Properly braided, stretched in the right directions, and given a strong place to hold on to. I have been remiss in not saying thank you enough to my root system out there. Many have written and I have not responded. Many prayers are going up for me and mine. I want to say it now that I love you all for who and what you are and have been to me. I have gleaned so much from your thoughtful words. Ray, Dana, David, Tim, other Tim, Jackie, Frosty, Michelle, Dutchtown Baptist Church, and so many more stretching out over seas and countries, my root system stretches around the world. I love you all and thank you for being a part of my life and for hurting with my hurt and for learning from my pain. In all humility I ask that you continue to feed me and let me know how I can continue to feed you.
I recently built a pergola for our Wisteria to keep it off of our telephone pole. Being addicted to building and a perfectionist about such things I decided that the Wisteria was too big and needed a second pergola to make it look right. Then more ideas took hold, decking the pergolas, building benches, a fire pit and more gardening. Today I set out to start the second pergola and I dug the hole for the first post. Having gotten it set and cemented in I took a good look at the Wisteria. It is a mess. The base cannot be seen due to all of the new growth sprouting out everywhere and there are so many vines coming off of it that I had no idea which were going to go to which pergola. I had an idea that I would take some of the younger vines, strip the new sprouts off of them and braid them to add the lagniappe (a little something extra) that I am always looking for. Having braided a five foot section I saw that the base of the vine was starting to become more visible. I imagined in my mind the finished product with the leaves and flowers at the top showing the delicate nature of the wisteria and the strong, rugged nature of the base of the wisteria showing how much strength is needed for so much beauty to develop. So I began to clear away more young growth. At this point it occurred to me that I needed to have Shelby there because as our resident master gardner she would be able to tell me if I was doing too much and hurting the plant or if it was all okay. The resilience of this plant though reminded me that in all that we have done to chop away at it I was certain to be okay. I found a second place where I could braid another section, about 4 feet long, and it looks just beautiful. I started to separate the vines as to which was going to go to which pergola and I had a moment that took my breath away. I stopped, stepped back about ten feet and looked at what I had done. The beauty of this plant was always there, but certain aspects were unable to be seen until the young life was stripped away. My family.
I have a wife who drives me crazy. My daughter is so "hidden" in so many ways that it frustrates me at times trying to find her heart. My son, he is pure fun and adventure but when it comes to getting him to do something so simple as wash the dishes he becomes one of my biggest challenges. They all have at times frustrated me to the point of anger, acting in ways I never should have, saying things I never should have and behaving in ways that I should be severely ashamed of. I love them more than I could possibly put into words, every one of them, with all of their quirks and things that make them not like me, so very different and so hard to understand. Our family is beautiful. At our base we are strong, rugged, and at times in need of pruning. The further out we stretch, in our relationships with our friends and family we are beautiful but very few will ever see the strength it takes to keep us alive and flourishing. So many thing we never saw or never knew, only assumed, until our young life was stripped away from us. There are so many beautiful flowers that will never grow on that wisteria because the new life is gone. My pruning will make it beautiful and stronger, more beautiful than it could have been without the support of the pergolas and the tender loving care that we all put into its maintenance. My family.
If we are to be successful, I need to be that base of the wisteria. The strong part that my family can glean from. I need to rely on an extensive root system of friends and family who will feed me and nourish me so that I can be strong for them. We all need to absorb the life giving water so that we can feed the trunks of the trees that we are intended to feed. In my family I am the trunk, but I may just be a root in your family tree that feeds you and helps you to be that strong trunk that your vines and flowers need in order to grow and be stronger and more beautiful. Perhaps God, the master gardner had to strip away our young life to make us what He intends for us to be. Properly braided, stretched in the right directions, and given a strong place to hold on to. I have been remiss in not saying thank you enough to my root system out there. Many have written and I have not responded. Many prayers are going up for me and mine. I want to say it now that I love you all for who and what you are and have been to me. I have gleaned so much from your thoughtful words. Ray, Dana, David, Tim, other Tim, Jackie, Frosty, Michelle, Dutchtown Baptist Church, and so many more stretching out over seas and countries, my root system stretches around the world. I love you all and thank you for being a part of my life and for hurting with my hurt and for learning from my pain. In all humility I ask that you continue to feed me and let me know how I can continue to feed you.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Worst Day Yet
Today was the worst day yet. It just serves as a reminder that this can hit at any time over any circumstance. I worry some times when I have gone a few days with no emotions that I am forgetting her but then a day like today happens. It all started with a comment that someone put on facebook about having lost a nights sleep to their baby crying. I posted a reply, "Count your blessings." It was simply my intention to give said person a different perspective and for them to see that it isn't so bad to lose a nights sleep over a baby who needs you. It seems that my point wasn't well received though as I got a response along the lines of "I'm sorry but waking up three times a night to a crying baby is not my idea of a blessing." I cannot quote exactly because the post was removed or I was unfriended or whatever. It hurt me to hear someone not understand how they should appreciate the cries of their baby, of their baby needing them. I am no longer needed by my sweet angel and would give anything to have her keep me up nights crying. I miss her tears. I actually heard her crying the other day, as if she were in her bed waking up from a nap. I almost scolded Carpenter for being too loud and waking her, but I heard her so clearly. I'm scared that I am losing my mind. Anyhow, my response to said persons reply was to say that I wanted to give her a different perspective and to reiterate my point that she should count her blessings that her baby was there for her to hear cry and to comfort. Her friend lit into me and then she lit into me, and in a private email was told how she couldn't believe what I had done and that I should mind my own business and how dare I have the nerve and so on. That I was inappropriate. This is where that demon inside of me rose up and anger grabbed ahold. I replied "Good thing you are not a man and within arms reach. How's that for inappropriate?" Certainly that was uncalled for, but it was just hurting me so badly that she was not appreciating every aspect of her baby. I would give anything to have my sweet Willow crying for me. I went too far. I let my grief and anguish get the best of me. I became overwhelmed though and broke down weeping. I was stopped at the fuel pump at the dairy and became so overwhelmed with grief that I fell to the ground weeping, sobbing, so empty inside and yet so full of pain. I just sat there for a while, oblivious to the fact that I was open to the stares of many people, and wept violently. A sales rep came over to me and asked me to talk. I couldn't. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, that falling down that you don't get up from. I sat in my truck and wept and wept. In the midst of it all, my good friend Tim called. He is the kind of friend where I could just sit there and cry and he would listen and wait until I was ready. There are times when I wonder what the point to life is anymore. If all we live for is to pay bills and fulfill pleasures and responsibilities, and there are so many different ideas as to what "live for God" means, what is the point. Then my son does some goofy thing that makes me laugh or my daughter needs me to help her plant her staghorn ferns I bought for her, or even the chance to bring my wife lunch at work, and I know that there is still meaning. I need to pick myself up, dust myself off, and find a new reason to go on. It is so hard without Willow here. At times I am an unpleasant person. At times I leave a lot to be desired. I need to get my head straight. I need to overcome this loneliness. There has never been a better example of "easier said than done." As much as this was the worst day yet, I know that there are many more to come and it will only get worse before it gets better. God grant me the strength.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Karma
Karma. The definition is: "action, seen as bringing upon oneself inevitable results, good or bad, either in this life or in a reincarnation." You get what you pay for. It all evens out in the end. I used to think that there was a certain merit to this idea, if I were good to people and kind then people would be good and kind to me. To a certain extent that is true, but there is a stark new reality I am faced with. No one deserves to endure the loss of a child. What could I have possibly done to have merited this kind of suffering, grief and anguish? Its just not possible, hence, karma is a newly rejected idea for me. That was my random thought for the moment. Now on to other things.
I went to a group grief recovery session at Healing Place Church this past Sunday. I was really hopeful that being with others that had been through something similar would help. Ends up only two people besides myself and the facilitator showed up. One was a lady who had lost her husband after 31 years of marriage. The other was a woman who lost both of her parents, ten years apart. At the risk of sounding arrogant, there are different types of people in this world. Some are in my estimation naive and will believe a lot of what they're told without evidence and then there are those who need to know for sure. I am in the latter group. I cannot accept things unless I know they are true. This is what makes faith so hard for me. I need evidence and not just pretty words. I introduced myself and told my story. I broke down and wept and told of my deepest fears and sorrows. Anguish. I heard a lot of "you were a good Pawpaw" and "she's in a better place." I have heard a lot of this and I thought that people who had suffered loss would not give me these token words but apparently our grief was different enough that they couldn't understand. We had to adjourn early because Dr. Spivey, the facilitator, had to go be with a family whose 4 year old had drown. They gave me a bunch of cookies. As I was leaving they all wanted to hug and say that they were proud of me. I didn't want that. I don't know these people and could care less if they are proud of me. I am not a child who needs encouragement like that. I am a man who needs to know if there is an end to the anguish and how to deal with it without simply closing off a huge part of who I am. I don't want to be two people. That is what I feel like. I am Stephen the milkman, happy go lucky with a personality for giving great customer service, and then there is Stephen, the man who wonders why we live in the first place if the end result is so much heartache, grief, and anguish. What have I done in life that was so wonderful that it counterbalances this anguish? Damn you karma.
I saw a wonderful video today. My friend Matt, one of the greatest men I have ever known and a true friend, put up a picture of his daughter, approximately the same age as Willow, trying to pet a kitty that wasn't in the mood. She must've said "kitty" a hundred times, but the kitty was not interested which further leads me to believe that cats have evil souls. ;-) I was so envious watching that video. I wanted so badly to pick little Chloe up and hug her so gently, smell her hair and whisper I love you. No, I wanted to pick up Willow and do all of those things. I hope that in all of this that the people who have children will take time to further love them, more than they thought possible and give more time than they think they have. Smell their hair. Tickle them. Give more hugs and kisses and I love you's than you ever have before. I just want everyone to truly understand that while you can you must. I don't have that opportunity with Willow anymore and I would trade my life to bring her back.
I had a horrific scare this morning. I got a call from a neighbor saying that my sons bus driver had called to say that she had seen Carpenters backpack at the bus stop but Carpenter was no where to be found. I asked her to please check on him and let me know so I could rush home and call the police to find my kidnapped son. Ends up, after 5 minutes she called back and my knucklehead son had fallen in the ditch while trying to catch a turtle and was at home changing when the bus came. He couldn't find any uniform pants or clean shoes. I cannot describe the panic while I waited to hear her call me back. I was already planning the remainder of my life, or if I could even go on if he were gone. There is only so much one man can take. I was so glad to see him when he came home from school today. I celebrated by beginning the works of building another pergola on the other side of the telephone pole and I think I am going to deck them both and build on benches too. Anyhow, much more to say but I have to wake up in 4 hours for work. Big day tomorrow.
The stars were brilliant tonight. Willow would have loved them.
I went to a group grief recovery session at Healing Place Church this past Sunday. I was really hopeful that being with others that had been through something similar would help. Ends up only two people besides myself and the facilitator showed up. One was a lady who had lost her husband after 31 years of marriage. The other was a woman who lost both of her parents, ten years apart. At the risk of sounding arrogant, there are different types of people in this world. Some are in my estimation naive and will believe a lot of what they're told without evidence and then there are those who need to know for sure. I am in the latter group. I cannot accept things unless I know they are true. This is what makes faith so hard for me. I need evidence and not just pretty words. I introduced myself and told my story. I broke down and wept and told of my deepest fears and sorrows. Anguish. I heard a lot of "you were a good Pawpaw" and "she's in a better place." I have heard a lot of this and I thought that people who had suffered loss would not give me these token words but apparently our grief was different enough that they couldn't understand. We had to adjourn early because Dr. Spivey, the facilitator, had to go be with a family whose 4 year old had drown. They gave me a bunch of cookies. As I was leaving they all wanted to hug and say that they were proud of me. I didn't want that. I don't know these people and could care less if they are proud of me. I am not a child who needs encouragement like that. I am a man who needs to know if there is an end to the anguish and how to deal with it without simply closing off a huge part of who I am. I don't want to be two people. That is what I feel like. I am Stephen the milkman, happy go lucky with a personality for giving great customer service, and then there is Stephen, the man who wonders why we live in the first place if the end result is so much heartache, grief, and anguish. What have I done in life that was so wonderful that it counterbalances this anguish? Damn you karma.
I saw a wonderful video today. My friend Matt, one of the greatest men I have ever known and a true friend, put up a picture of his daughter, approximately the same age as Willow, trying to pet a kitty that wasn't in the mood. She must've said "kitty" a hundred times, but the kitty was not interested which further leads me to believe that cats have evil souls. ;-) I was so envious watching that video. I wanted so badly to pick little Chloe up and hug her so gently, smell her hair and whisper I love you. No, I wanted to pick up Willow and do all of those things. I hope that in all of this that the people who have children will take time to further love them, more than they thought possible and give more time than they think they have. Smell their hair. Tickle them. Give more hugs and kisses and I love you's than you ever have before. I just want everyone to truly understand that while you can you must. I don't have that opportunity with Willow anymore and I would trade my life to bring her back.
I had a horrific scare this morning. I got a call from a neighbor saying that my sons bus driver had called to say that she had seen Carpenters backpack at the bus stop but Carpenter was no where to be found. I asked her to please check on him and let me know so I could rush home and call the police to find my kidnapped son. Ends up, after 5 minutes she called back and my knucklehead son had fallen in the ditch while trying to catch a turtle and was at home changing when the bus came. He couldn't find any uniform pants or clean shoes. I cannot describe the panic while I waited to hear her call me back. I was already planning the remainder of my life, or if I could even go on if he were gone. There is only so much one man can take. I was so glad to see him when he came home from school today. I celebrated by beginning the works of building another pergola on the other side of the telephone pole and I think I am going to deck them both and build on benches too. Anyhow, much more to say but I have to wake up in 4 hours for work. Big day tomorrow.
The stars were brilliant tonight. Willow would have loved them.
Friday, April 13, 2012
No easy answers
I find myself pulled to this blog. I feel like it is a place that I can escape to and say what I want to say, regardless of how anyone else might feel about what I say. I can just let it out, knowing that others will read it but really not caring anymore about how anyone's opinion of me is shaped as a result. No offense dear ones, but screw what you think. ;-)
Poetry. Writing. These were major facets of who I was back when I felt I had a better grasp of who I was. Maybe I need this so I can go back and re-read and find out just what is coming out of me? I am horribly guilt ridden over the fact that I am forgetting Willow. Alice tells me that she read about it being a typical emotional response to such a tragedy and is not unusual, that the memories will come back someday, but I just don't know. I go back to her pictures and videos to remember her, and then some random thing happens that sends her surging back to me so quickly that I suddenly find it hard to breath. Such an event happened today. After work I went to Lowes to buy material to build another pergola, a bit smaller than the first, when Alice called and asked me to pick up something from the store. As I was walking through the aisles I spied a woman walking away from me with a 2 year old girl in her cart. She was wearing a diaper. I haven't seen a diaper since Willow passed. Everything rushed up and a huge lump formed in my throat and it was all I could do to keep from breaking down right there in the store. I miss my baby girl. I want her back so badly and it still hasn't become my reality that not only will I never get to see her grow up, but I will never even again hear her call me Pawpaw. We were with some friends the other day and their daughter referred to her Mawmaw and Willow came rushing back again. It is over such little things. Things that come from no where and paralyze me. I never see them coming. From what I've heard this is something that will never go away. I just want this to all be over. There is a song lyric that comes back to me. "If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave because your presence still lingers here." What a sad thing to say about my lovey girl but sometimes I wish that we could all just forget her and never again have to deal with this.
I spoke of one of my unanswered biblical questions in my last post and I thought I'd address one of the recently answered ones. We are taught that we are born with a sinful nature. If that is true and we aren't redeemed of our sin debt until we are come to the realization that Christ is real and accept him as our savior, what about the babies that die? The prevailing theory is that there is an "age of accountability." Only problem with that is that the bible does not once mention an age of accountability or even a similar theory. I spoke with my pastor about this as I had no answers as to if all of this is real, where is Willow? If she was born with a sin nature and never accepted Christ as her savior is she now in Hell? What a horribly unfair fate, but that has been my question with Hell all along. It doesn't seem right. Jason, my pastor, directed me to a verse in II Samuel chapter 12:15-22. It reads as such.
Poetry. Writing. These were major facets of who I was back when I felt I had a better grasp of who I was. Maybe I need this so I can go back and re-read and find out just what is coming out of me? I am horribly guilt ridden over the fact that I am forgetting Willow. Alice tells me that she read about it being a typical emotional response to such a tragedy and is not unusual, that the memories will come back someday, but I just don't know. I go back to her pictures and videos to remember her, and then some random thing happens that sends her surging back to me so quickly that I suddenly find it hard to breath. Such an event happened today. After work I went to Lowes to buy material to build another pergola, a bit smaller than the first, when Alice called and asked me to pick up something from the store. As I was walking through the aisles I spied a woman walking away from me with a 2 year old girl in her cart. She was wearing a diaper. I haven't seen a diaper since Willow passed. Everything rushed up and a huge lump formed in my throat and it was all I could do to keep from breaking down right there in the store. I miss my baby girl. I want her back so badly and it still hasn't become my reality that not only will I never get to see her grow up, but I will never even again hear her call me Pawpaw. We were with some friends the other day and their daughter referred to her Mawmaw and Willow came rushing back again. It is over such little things. Things that come from no where and paralyze me. I never see them coming. From what I've heard this is something that will never go away. I just want this to all be over. There is a song lyric that comes back to me. "If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave because your presence still lingers here." What a sad thing to say about my lovey girl but sometimes I wish that we could all just forget her and never again have to deal with this.
I spoke of one of my unanswered biblical questions in my last post and I thought I'd address one of the recently answered ones. We are taught that we are born with a sinful nature. If that is true and we aren't redeemed of our sin debt until we are come to the realization that Christ is real and accept him as our savior, what about the babies that die? The prevailing theory is that there is an "age of accountability." Only problem with that is that the bible does not once mention an age of accountability or even a similar theory. I spoke with my pastor about this as I had no answers as to if all of this is real, where is Willow? If she was born with a sin nature and never accepted Christ as her savior is she now in Hell? What a horribly unfair fate, but that has been my question with Hell all along. It doesn't seem right. Jason, my pastor, directed me to a verse in II Samuel chapter 12:15-22. It reads as such.
15 After Nathan had gone home, the LORD struck the child that Uriah’s wife had borne to David, and he became ill. 16 David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth[a] on the ground. 17 The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused, and he would not eat any food with them.
18 On the seventh day the child died. David’s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, he wouldn’t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.”
19 David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked.
“Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”
20 Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the LORD and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.
21 His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”
22 He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ 23 But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”
This child was too young to have reached the "age of accountability" but David was at peace, knowing that he would see his son again. SO according to that, if I have accepted Christ as savior then I will, I WILL see Willow again. If I decide to fully commit to a belief in Christ as savior based on seeing Willow again then it isn't actually accepting Christ as savior, it is just hoping in seeing Willow again. No easy answers.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Only God knows why
Today is April 12, one month on from the passing of our little Willow. I am sitting in the floor of Willow's bedroom on the exact spot where I found her lifeless body on that horrific day. I think I am trying to create something. I am having one of those "in between" days. I spoke with my aunt Vicki today about Willow. I told her all about that night, about the CPR and the medi-flight, about all of the details. I have done everything I can today to make it all about remembering Willow and yet, no tears. I have had a boring, regular day. I haven't written in a few days because our last power cord for our computers finally broke and I was waiting on a new one to come so there is certainly a lot of ground to cover to make up for lost time. A lot has happened, good and bad. I have no idea where to start so I will just let this entry be totally random and not at all thought out. Here I go.
I was listening to a song today called "Only God Knows Why." It struck me because there is a baby buried near Willow and the inscription on her bench says "Only God Knows Why." My prevailing thought has been the same, only God knows why. There is a lyric in that song that says something like "they say every man bleeds just like me." That rather random lyric struck me pretty hard today. My family is not specially equipped to deal with this. We don't have anything that you don't have. The greatest imaginable tragedy has struck our family, only God knows why, and we have no way of knowing what to do or any special powers of healing to get through this. We are messed up. I have heard the phrase "God never gives you more than you can handle" more times than I can stand and I firmly disagree. People are driven mad every day by the circumstances in their lives. If handling it simply means that I don't drop dead under the pressure then yes I suppose I am handling it. However, there are those in between days and there are those happy days. It is a strange ting to be a witness to your own loss of sanity. Some days I just sit and look back at my emotional break downs and think to myself, "Wow, that must have been really hard." It is as if it were someone else going through it. That leads me to one of the major highlights of the last few days. The way that we deal with it. I am a very different person from the rest of my family in one peculiar way. I am not afraid to unabashedly weep over this pain. When it comes on I don't try to hide it. I don't care who is there, although I do try to find a quiet, hidden spot where I can not put others through it with me. I want to talk about it. I want to get it out. Alice, Carpenter and Shelby on the other hand are quite stoic. Alice has her moments of crying, but they are private moments when no one else is around. Shelby, I have only seen cry once since we left the hospital, although she says she cries in the shower. Carpenter waits until he is in bed, the TV is off and he thinks everyone else is asleep, and that is his time to cry. Otherwise you would not know there was anything wrong by just watching them throughout the day. They internalize, and they think on the good things and the hope that one day they will see Willow again. There we find another major difference. I was born and raised in church. Three times a week I was in services. I was taught the independent, fundamental Baptist way of thinking and I never fell in line with it. I came to believe in God very easily. I studied darwinism, i studied scientific creationism, I studied the King James bible, I studied the NIV, I met with pastors of Baptist churches, Pentacostal, Catholic, Mormon. I attended church at all of these denominations and more and some could answer some questions and some could not. I learned a lot and I came to terms with a lot but there are a few things that I never did or have come to terms with. Thats the thing about the Bible. The more you learn the more questions you have. I have found peace with most questions but there is one prevailing thing that I cannot get peace about. If God is never surprised, is all knowing and all seeing, then when He created Hell for lucifer and his angels then He must have known that some of us, His children, would end up there. He had to know that His children whom He loves with a perfect love, a love greater than anything I am capable of, would spend eternity burning in torments. My sweet Willow, it broke my heart when she got a boo boo. The thought that I would create a scenario where if she didn't get it right then she would be condemned to an eternity in flames in unconscionable. I would never and I would absorb her death ten thousand times over if it would spare her from it. If God loves us as He says He does, why did he create a scenario such as this? I have yet to come to terms with this and if I die before I do, do I burn for eternity? This is a question asked in all seriousness. I don't understand why even if I spend a lifetime trying to get it straight and just not quite being able to get there then I will be subjected to such a punishment. My pastor has helped me with some of the other questions that I have been afraid to ask, he really has given me quite a bit of peace about some things, but this one still weighs on me. I need to get it figured out. I need understanding. The Bible says, "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God who giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not." I am not quite sure what upbraideth means but it seems God doesn't do it. EVER. So now I ask of Him. God, I am lacking in wisdom. I do not know why you have allowed a way for us to end up in Hell's flames and I need to understand why it is right. As a father, it boggles my mind. Perhaps, only you know why.
I was listening to a song today called "Only God Knows Why." It struck me because there is a baby buried near Willow and the inscription on her bench says "Only God Knows Why." My prevailing thought has been the same, only God knows why. There is a lyric in that song that says something like "they say every man bleeds just like me." That rather random lyric struck me pretty hard today. My family is not specially equipped to deal with this. We don't have anything that you don't have. The greatest imaginable tragedy has struck our family, only God knows why, and we have no way of knowing what to do or any special powers of healing to get through this. We are messed up. I have heard the phrase "God never gives you more than you can handle" more times than I can stand and I firmly disagree. People are driven mad every day by the circumstances in their lives. If handling it simply means that I don't drop dead under the pressure then yes I suppose I am handling it. However, there are those in between days and there are those happy days. It is a strange ting to be a witness to your own loss of sanity. Some days I just sit and look back at my emotional break downs and think to myself, "Wow, that must have been really hard." It is as if it were someone else going through it. That leads me to one of the major highlights of the last few days. The way that we deal with it. I am a very different person from the rest of my family in one peculiar way. I am not afraid to unabashedly weep over this pain. When it comes on I don't try to hide it. I don't care who is there, although I do try to find a quiet, hidden spot where I can not put others through it with me. I want to talk about it. I want to get it out. Alice, Carpenter and Shelby on the other hand are quite stoic. Alice has her moments of crying, but they are private moments when no one else is around. Shelby, I have only seen cry once since we left the hospital, although she says she cries in the shower. Carpenter waits until he is in bed, the TV is off and he thinks everyone else is asleep, and that is his time to cry. Otherwise you would not know there was anything wrong by just watching them throughout the day. They internalize, and they think on the good things and the hope that one day they will see Willow again. There we find another major difference. I was born and raised in church. Three times a week I was in services. I was taught the independent, fundamental Baptist way of thinking and I never fell in line with it. I came to believe in God very easily. I studied darwinism, i studied scientific creationism, I studied the King James bible, I studied the NIV, I met with pastors of Baptist churches, Pentacostal, Catholic, Mormon. I attended church at all of these denominations and more and some could answer some questions and some could not. I learned a lot and I came to terms with a lot but there are a few things that I never did or have come to terms with. Thats the thing about the Bible. The more you learn the more questions you have. I have found peace with most questions but there is one prevailing thing that I cannot get peace about. If God is never surprised, is all knowing and all seeing, then when He created Hell for lucifer and his angels then He must have known that some of us, His children, would end up there. He had to know that His children whom He loves with a perfect love, a love greater than anything I am capable of, would spend eternity burning in torments. My sweet Willow, it broke my heart when she got a boo boo. The thought that I would create a scenario where if she didn't get it right then she would be condemned to an eternity in flames in unconscionable. I would never and I would absorb her death ten thousand times over if it would spare her from it. If God loves us as He says He does, why did he create a scenario such as this? I have yet to come to terms with this and if I die before I do, do I burn for eternity? This is a question asked in all seriousness. I don't understand why even if I spend a lifetime trying to get it straight and just not quite being able to get there then I will be subjected to such a punishment. My pastor has helped me with some of the other questions that I have been afraid to ask, he really has given me quite a bit of peace about some things, but this one still weighs on me. I need to get it figured out. I need understanding. The Bible says, "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God who giveth to all liberally, and upbraideth not." I am not quite sure what upbraideth means but it seems God doesn't do it. EVER. So now I ask of Him. God, I am lacking in wisdom. I do not know why you have allowed a way for us to end up in Hell's flames and I need to understand why it is right. As a father, it boggles my mind. Perhaps, only you know why.
Monday, April 9, 2012
The "in betweens"
Today started out just like any other. I woke up, too tired to put a proper thought together and walked out into the living room to turn on the news and read my email while trying to wake up. Instead of email, I clicked on iphoto and looked through a huge selection of pictures of Willow. Shelby has taken thousands and I am so very grateful for that. As I looked through them, seeing her smiles and adventures i kept having one overwhelming thought. Why am I not crying? I had no emotional responses to seeing her, so full of life, so happy, so beautiful, so gone from my life. I tried to make myself weep, make myself be overcome and mourn but there was nothing. I just do not understand these times.
Looking back on one incident in particular, I was in the hospital the day they were to take Willow's body off of the machines and harvest her organs. It had been so important to me not to break down in front of Alice, Carpenter and Shelby, and I had not been as successful as I had wished to be. This morning however, my dad was there and I knew he was going to want to talk and he is as close to deaf as is possible without being deaf so I took him, just the two of us, away from everyone else and went down to the cafeteria. We went through the line, got our food, sat down in a booth, and I began to weep. No, I began to wail. I know I must have been seen all over that cafeteria because I didn't hold anything back. I just kept saying, "My baby, my baby, no, no, no..." and crying out loud, unabashedly weeping. At one point a nurse came over and asked my dad if I was okay. Just one more of those stupid well intended questions people have been asking. Of course I was not okay, my baby was dead. There was no holding anything back and I didn't care who heard or who was there or what anyone thought. I needed to let it out and I did. I am okay with that. I have no regrets about that and do not question why I behaved in such a manner. It was healthy, it was pure emotion and no one who heard it had any question as to what was going on, although I didn't care. Inappropriate? Some may think so, but it was true and it was pure and raw emotion is cleansing. It was healing to let it all out. I don't question that.
Just over a week ago we had two great friends drive all the way down to Michigan to see us. Our dear friends Tim and Vikki, whom I hadn't seen since we left Michigan in 2004 and Alice and the kids had seen a couple of times while visiting Michigan over the last several years, they drove all the way through to Louisiana just to see us. We had a great time with them. There was so much laughter and merriment. We went out to a little pastry cafe that I take care of and we had a fantastic time trying different pastries, drinking coffee, and making fun of me for being Mr. Sunshine. One of the chefs had been wanting to meet my wife and daughter for a while and told them that they have had other milkmen but there is something different about me as I bring sunshine in with me when I come. Of course, this well intentioned compliment led to me being teased mercilessly about being Mr. Sunshine and I loved every minute of it, although from what I hear my face turned several shades of red. We had so much fun, so much laughter, such a sweet time, and this makes sense to me too. In the midst of our loss, the greatest loss anyone will ever be able to comprehend, we had true joy and laughter and such a sweet and wonderful time. I understand this too because in all of our anguish we have so much to celebrate. It is like I have quoted Pooh bear as saying, "I am glad to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Willow was such a wonderful human being and brought pure joy and light wherever and whenever and she left this life before the evils of it got to her. She was spared from so much ugliness and evil in this world. She knew nothing but love and comfort and happiness. We had our dear friends with us. They had made a huge sacrifice to drive 17 hours straight to spend a couple of days and then drive 17 hours back. Such a gesture was so wonderful and meant the world to me. How could someone not be happy in such a time as this. This made sense.
That Sunday morning was my first time to return to church since Willow's passing. It was the same church where her funeral was held. I parked next to the side door that we carried her little casket out from. I went through the doors that led to the sanctuary where her little body lay on display and saw the aching looks on people's faces as they greeted me. I also learned that if you're holding two cups of coffee you don't have to shake people's hands. (A personal phobia of mine.) I never made it to the beginning of the singing. It was all too much. I went in the back room and wept, wept such bitter tears and hurt so deeply that I felt as if there was no escape from this deep abyss I was sinking into. I started to feel like I was sinking beyond the point of coming back, which scares me. I fear that if I ever let myself fall far enough I'll never get up. So I got up. My wife was kneeling with me, comforting me. My daughter came and took me away. She asked me to take her for coffee, she actually took me, and we went away from that bittersweet place and we had a time of distraction. All of this makes sense to me. Of course I will have times of unspeakable grief, and of course I will have times of such deep heartfelt joy and love.
Then there are the "in betweens." These are the times I cannot wrap my mind around. The times when I stand next to Willow's Willow tree in the back yard, the one we planted for Shelby's first mothers day and I feel nothing. The times when I look at the multitude of pictures of Willow and I feel nothing. The times, more often than not, when I cannot remember what she sounded like. Why can I not remember the sound of her voice? Why can I not remember the feeling of picking her up? Her hugs? Her kisses? Why am I forgetting her? Why is she slipping away? Why are there times when I can watch a video of her, like the video I shot of her on her last day, seeing her run with pollen all over her little bottom and not have an emotional reaction? How come I can see a video of me singing "Hello Brother" by Louis Armstrong to her and not be moved? No emotion. These are the times that I don't understand. These are the times that torture me and feel me with such guilt, such shame. I feel as though it is such a dishonor to Willow's memory to, less than a month from her death, not be able to remember her voice? She was my world! She was my angel. She was my reason for breathing. Of course, just one of my reasons. I still have my wife and kids and they are my everything and I would have laid down and died already had I not had them. But why are there times like these? Why are there these cursed "in betweens" that make me feel as though I've forgotten her, as though I am the most cold and wretched man alive? How can such a thing possibly be? I need help. I need someone to help me make sense of this. There are two options I've come across so far. One, I can go to a therapist and talk one on one. Two, I can go to a grief support group with other people who have lost little ones. No therapist will understand. They may have all of the book knowledge there is but unless they have burst into a room and picked their lifeless child up off the floor and lost a part of their soul as that child died, they have no idea. It is clear to me that I need to speak with some people who know what I am going through. I am blessed to have such good friends who are aching to help. A dear friend, Ray, called me today just to check on me. I didn't answer and I listened to his sweet voicemail where he was just encouraging me that whatever I need is fine and he understands but he hopes we can get together soon to talk. He is right. I don't know if I know of someone with a bigger heart than Ray and Sharon. No, he hasn't lost a child but he loves his as dearly as I love mine. It feels a bit selfish, but it is very comforting to know that someone hurts so deeply for me. I don't want anyone to hurt and I don't want to be a burden on anyone, but at the same time I have to admit that it does take a bit of that burden off of my shoulders. No one can bear this burden alone.
There is so much more to say, so many more topics to go over and in time perhaps I will hit them all. Today though, I simply ask God to help me. Help me with the "in betweens." Give me more of the bitter tears, the painful wailing. Give me more of the laughter with good friends and love of people whose love I do not deserve. Give me the good times, give me the painful times, but dear God please help me with these cursed "in betweens."
Looking back on one incident in particular, I was in the hospital the day they were to take Willow's body off of the machines and harvest her organs. It had been so important to me not to break down in front of Alice, Carpenter and Shelby, and I had not been as successful as I had wished to be. This morning however, my dad was there and I knew he was going to want to talk and he is as close to deaf as is possible without being deaf so I took him, just the two of us, away from everyone else and went down to the cafeteria. We went through the line, got our food, sat down in a booth, and I began to weep. No, I began to wail. I know I must have been seen all over that cafeteria because I didn't hold anything back. I just kept saying, "My baby, my baby, no, no, no..." and crying out loud, unabashedly weeping. At one point a nurse came over and asked my dad if I was okay. Just one more of those stupid well intended questions people have been asking. Of course I was not okay, my baby was dead. There was no holding anything back and I didn't care who heard or who was there or what anyone thought. I needed to let it out and I did. I am okay with that. I have no regrets about that and do not question why I behaved in such a manner. It was healthy, it was pure emotion and no one who heard it had any question as to what was going on, although I didn't care. Inappropriate? Some may think so, but it was true and it was pure and raw emotion is cleansing. It was healing to let it all out. I don't question that.
Just over a week ago we had two great friends drive all the way down to Michigan to see us. Our dear friends Tim and Vikki, whom I hadn't seen since we left Michigan in 2004 and Alice and the kids had seen a couple of times while visiting Michigan over the last several years, they drove all the way through to Louisiana just to see us. We had a great time with them. There was so much laughter and merriment. We went out to a little pastry cafe that I take care of and we had a fantastic time trying different pastries, drinking coffee, and making fun of me for being Mr. Sunshine. One of the chefs had been wanting to meet my wife and daughter for a while and told them that they have had other milkmen but there is something different about me as I bring sunshine in with me when I come. Of course, this well intentioned compliment led to me being teased mercilessly about being Mr. Sunshine and I loved every minute of it, although from what I hear my face turned several shades of red. We had so much fun, so much laughter, such a sweet time, and this makes sense to me too. In the midst of our loss, the greatest loss anyone will ever be able to comprehend, we had true joy and laughter and such a sweet and wonderful time. I understand this too because in all of our anguish we have so much to celebrate. It is like I have quoted Pooh bear as saying, "I am glad to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." Willow was such a wonderful human being and brought pure joy and light wherever and whenever and she left this life before the evils of it got to her. She was spared from so much ugliness and evil in this world. She knew nothing but love and comfort and happiness. We had our dear friends with us. They had made a huge sacrifice to drive 17 hours straight to spend a couple of days and then drive 17 hours back. Such a gesture was so wonderful and meant the world to me. How could someone not be happy in such a time as this. This made sense.
That Sunday morning was my first time to return to church since Willow's passing. It was the same church where her funeral was held. I parked next to the side door that we carried her little casket out from. I went through the doors that led to the sanctuary where her little body lay on display and saw the aching looks on people's faces as they greeted me. I also learned that if you're holding two cups of coffee you don't have to shake people's hands. (A personal phobia of mine.) I never made it to the beginning of the singing. It was all too much. I went in the back room and wept, wept such bitter tears and hurt so deeply that I felt as if there was no escape from this deep abyss I was sinking into. I started to feel like I was sinking beyond the point of coming back, which scares me. I fear that if I ever let myself fall far enough I'll never get up. So I got up. My wife was kneeling with me, comforting me. My daughter came and took me away. She asked me to take her for coffee, she actually took me, and we went away from that bittersweet place and we had a time of distraction. All of this makes sense to me. Of course I will have times of unspeakable grief, and of course I will have times of such deep heartfelt joy and love.
Then there are the "in betweens." These are the times I cannot wrap my mind around. The times when I stand next to Willow's Willow tree in the back yard, the one we planted for Shelby's first mothers day and I feel nothing. The times when I look at the multitude of pictures of Willow and I feel nothing. The times, more often than not, when I cannot remember what she sounded like. Why can I not remember the sound of her voice? Why can I not remember the feeling of picking her up? Her hugs? Her kisses? Why am I forgetting her? Why is she slipping away? Why are there times when I can watch a video of her, like the video I shot of her on her last day, seeing her run with pollen all over her little bottom and not have an emotional reaction? How come I can see a video of me singing "Hello Brother" by Louis Armstrong to her and not be moved? No emotion. These are the times that I don't understand. These are the times that torture me and feel me with such guilt, such shame. I feel as though it is such a dishonor to Willow's memory to, less than a month from her death, not be able to remember her voice? She was my world! She was my angel. She was my reason for breathing. Of course, just one of my reasons. I still have my wife and kids and they are my everything and I would have laid down and died already had I not had them. But why are there times like these? Why are there these cursed "in betweens" that make me feel as though I've forgotten her, as though I am the most cold and wretched man alive? How can such a thing possibly be? I need help. I need someone to help me make sense of this. There are two options I've come across so far. One, I can go to a therapist and talk one on one. Two, I can go to a grief support group with other people who have lost little ones. No therapist will understand. They may have all of the book knowledge there is but unless they have burst into a room and picked their lifeless child up off the floor and lost a part of their soul as that child died, they have no idea. It is clear to me that I need to speak with some people who know what I am going through. I am blessed to have such good friends who are aching to help. A dear friend, Ray, called me today just to check on me. I didn't answer and I listened to his sweet voicemail where he was just encouraging me that whatever I need is fine and he understands but he hopes we can get together soon to talk. He is right. I don't know if I know of someone with a bigger heart than Ray and Sharon. No, he hasn't lost a child but he loves his as dearly as I love mine. It feels a bit selfish, but it is very comforting to know that someone hurts so deeply for me. I don't want anyone to hurt and I don't want to be a burden on anyone, but at the same time I have to admit that it does take a bit of that burden off of my shoulders. No one can bear this burden alone.
There is so much more to say, so many more topics to go over and in time perhaps I will hit them all. Today though, I simply ask God to help me. Help me with the "in betweens." Give me more of the bitter tears, the painful wailing. Give me more of the laughter with good friends and love of people whose love I do not deserve. Give me the good times, give me the painful times, but dear God please help me with these cursed "in betweens."
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