Sunday, September 13, 2009

Final Sentence...Life Without Evan

Here is a picture of Noah on the beach...

It has been 151/2 months since we lost Evan. I think about him every hour of every day. Not a moment goes by that I don't wonder what he would be doing right now. Each school bus brings tears, seeing other little ones his same age is grueling, yet we have the need to live vicariously through each one. While it is getting easier to be around children his same age, the sadness lingers constantly. I see pictures of kids and their accomplishments and my heart just breaks again and again. Evan should be doing those things also. In an attempt to dodge traffic one day, we took a detour and ended up passing the T-ball field where Evan played ball. Nate and I saw all the little boys in their little ball uniforms running on the field. We both lost it! Is it always going to be this way! I find myself avoiding certain situations because of fear.

I am beginning to understand that losing a child is a life sentence. LIFE WITHOUT EVAN! This means every holiday we don't get to by him presents or a new church outfit, every birthday we don't get to watch him blow out his candles, every wedding or graduation we get to wonder what would Evan be doing or would have done. All of these occasions in which people are generally happy and celebrating means we get to sit in a cemetery and cry! On the first day of school I sat and cried because I didn't get to put Evan on the bus and send him off to 2nd grade. I can't imagine this ever getting better. Our whole lives from now on will be "what would have been". All I can do is sit and reflect on memories and pictures from past holidays and events.

Sometimes waking in up in the morning is torture because I truly know that this is not a dream and I am not going to wake up. This won't go away. While in the middle of one of my meltdowns, I asked Nate, will this ever go away? Will we ever be truly happy again? I think back to our old life and how wonderful it was. We were living life to its fullest and enjoying each day with our wonderful boys. We had everything that most people only dream of. Now I walk past our family photo in our living room and see the smiles on our faces wishing that was us today. I see the happiness we once had and wonder if it is possible to ever feel that way again. Don't get me wrong, we still count our blessings every day and we are so thankful to have Noah.

We just recently took a vacation to Gulf Shores. We traveled with friends so Noah would have other kids to play with. The first day was very hard with the realization that all the kids were there except Evan. He should have been there with us! I kept thinking that we had to take a "family" vacation without one of our children. How can that be? We got to go swim in the ocean and play on the beach, but Evan didn't! How incredibly unfair!! This is when I remind myself that Evan is experiencing all the wonderful glories of Heaven and how awesome that is. I sat on the balcony and prayed for God to help us have a good time. I also asked God to send me a sign that he is with us. Two days later we had a small rain storm. After the rain we saw a beautiful rainbow over the ocean. It was so amazing! God was truly there with us and reassuring us that Evan is okay! Everywhere we go we get a rainbow! This is when I usually kick myself in the rear and remind myself to continue to be faithful!

Sunday, September 6, 2009

What Is Normal?

Another mom in our SUDC online support group posted this. It is so true in the lives of all of us who have lost our precious children...

What is normal now?

NORMAL is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Christmas, birthdays, Valentine's day and Easter.

NORMAL is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or a birthday party. Yet, feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers, see the casket, and all the crying people.

NORMAL is feeling like you can't sit through another minute without screaming because you just don't like to sit through church anymore. And yet at the same time feeling like you have more faith in God than you ever had before.

NORMAL is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family’s life.

NORMAL is not sleeping because a thousand "what ifs" go through your head constantly.

NORMAL is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have some "noise" because the silence is deafening.

NORMAL is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday common event and then gasping in horror at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become part of normal conversation.

NORMAL is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honour your child's memory and their birthday and surviving those days. And trying to find a balloon or flag that fits the occasion, "Happy Birthday"? Not really!

NORMAL is a new friendship with another bereaved parent and meeting over coffee and talking and crying together over your children and worrying together over the surviving children.

NORMAL is being too tired to care if you paid your bills, cleaned your house, did the laundry or if there is food in the house.

NORMAL is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have 4 or 5 children because you will never see this person again, and is it worth explaining that one of them has passed away. And yet, when you say 4 children to avoid the problem you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your child.

NORMAL is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think you are "NORMAL".
"While we try and teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."