Choices…Decisions

This picture has always captivated me. I remember looking at this plant and thinking, I need to get rid of this “dead” plant. Then I saw this beautiful flower, almost as if defying the dead, brittle branches around it. Standing straight, showcasing its beauty.

Choices…decisions…

This “walk through the valley of the shadow of death” is incomprehensible. No way can I even try to explain “it” nor do I want to. However, I do need to keep on “walking”, “moving”, “living”. I have choices and decision to make.

Several quotes have captured my attention: “Suffering is a gift. May we suffer well.” * “No matter how dark it gets, love and hope are always possible.” * “Suffering is a gift; in it hidden mercy.” * “Life will continue, will you let it come in?”

My daughter’s race is finished, but mine is not. Will I “live” in a manner that “showcases” my hope and trust in a Living God? Will I stand straight and firm upon the promises of a God that does all things well? Will I “showcase” the beauty of the cross, the hope of the resurrection, the trust in the God who is, who was and who is to come? By the amazing, keeping grace of God – I believe so! I am willing! AND because He lives, I can face tomorrow, and I can rejoice in the LORD today!

Images

Images, images…an onslaught of images; a constant replay.

What’s playing, “presently”, in the theater of my mind? My beautiful daughter being placed in that bag. Yes, it was just her shell! Yes, she “wasn’t there” anymore! Yes, yes, yes…I KNOW!!! It was all part of the “normal” process! I get it! I accept it! BUT the torture and assault of those images is relentlessly painful and gut wrenching!

Her frail, lifeless little body being placed on that gurney, with that black ominous bag. The zipper going up, up…closing…watching her little face disappear. I wanted to turn away, but that seemed “unloving”, and I wanted to “see” her face as long as I possibly could. I wanted to scream, “she will suffocate!” I wanted to STOP the process. I thought I’d vomit…maybe if I vomited that twisted feeling in my guts would be relieved…UGH!!!

I try to renew my mind. I try to “think” on things that are true, noble, praiseworthy. Really…I do! But somehow, the images return, over and over again. I am thankful for the times that the images are of joyful, memorable moments. I welcome the relief and joy they bring.

Always on the edge. People…noises…anything threatens to take me over the edge; to explode.

I wonder, “If the images stopped, would I stop missing her; remembering her?” “Are these horrid images better than not having anything at all?”

And so the journey continues…one day, one moment, one second at a time. Thankful for the grace to do just that…one second at a time!

“Cry whenever you need to. Scream. Shout. Lay on the floor. Sob in the shower. Be still. Run. Share without fear. Listen. Release your pain. Breathe. Be courageous. Throw away the map. Wander. Be real. Be compassionate. Read. Seek friendship. Be vulnerable. Don’t fear being broken.” ~ Zoe Clark-Coates

Finality

Your time was making its way,

we knew it was coming.

Inching its way…lurking in the corner,

ready to pounce.

That bag…dark, suffocating…so unnatural,

my mind reels at the memory.

A short walk…a distance both finite and infinite.

That van…door closes…gasp!

It drives away dragging every bit of my heart,

shattered, broken, pulverized…

Never to be the same again.

Lyrics

Some song lyrics say what you want to say. I had “heard”this song before but now I “feel” it.

“…Who told us we’d be rescued?

What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?

We’re asking why this happens

To us who have died to live?

It’s unfair

This is what it means to be held

How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life

And you survive

This is what it is to be loved

And to know that the promise was

When everything fell we’d be held…”

~”Held” by Natalie Grant~

Unfiltered

I HATE that you are not here…that you are gone…that we won’t plan a wedding, a baby shower, a birthday party.

I HATE that your voice is silent…your giggles – oh, how I miss them and your quirky sense of humor, and that you called me weird and crazy, and that you gave me that look; AND that you called me lady, and Mommie.

I HATE that we don’t have “huggie time”, or pedicures, or lunch dates, or pancakes, or cafecito con panecito.

The list is endless…the pain suffocating!

It’s been said that “HATE” is such a strong and harsh word. Well, it’s NOT strong enough!

Don’t tell me you know how I feel when you are holding your little girl by the hand.

Don’t tell me you understand when no one is missing at your table.

In fact, you don’t have to say a word.

That proverbial fishbowl…that pedestal…ugh! I wish I could shatter that unseen glass; to get away from all the hacking eyes…to hide, to breakdown, to simply be! I wish I could take that “pedestal” and throw it against a concrete wall and watch it shatter, break, dissolve into a gazillion tiny pieces.

Maybe this would bring some relief…maybe…such maybe…