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Learning To Live Again
This took me a few days to write. I could only write a little at a time. Because thinking about it makes me cry. But I think that being able to express my feelings and talk about what has happened has been great therapy. So it has helped in some ways.
As I was watching the news this morning, (10/21/98) I heard about a little boy in Texas who was missing. That the flood waters had swept him away. He was only 7 years old. My heart goes out to his family. But mainly to his Mom. I know what she is going though, I know the pain, and the fear, and the guilt that goes with the loss of a child.
During this time people tell you they understand. But they don't truly understand the loss of a child. Only one who has lost a child knows how the family must feel. It is total different than losing a spouse or a parent, ect. Fathers handle it different that Mothers do too. I remember when Kevin died. His Dad acted like it didn't bother him. But I know it was all a show. Me on the other hand cried for 2 weeks straight. And my ex-husband told me I need to straighten up, I had 2 other kids to think of. That is when I turned my grieving inside. Which made things worse.
I had a friend that had 4 children. She lost her 1st and 3rd child at the same time due to a car accident. I really admired her at the funeral. She held herself together. She said she had to be strong for her remaining family. I on the other hand was more like Jell-O. I fell a part.
Just before Kevin died, about 2 weeks, there was a little boy of 10, I think, who had been stabbed repeatedly before he died. I asked some friends of mine, what kind of person, could sit there and listen to a child cry like that and kill him. About a year after Kevin died, there was a family in Indianapolis that lost all four of their boys in a fire. As I think of these two instances, I feel God was trying to say something to me. In the first case, My son didn't feel any pain when he died. And in the second one I was fortunate that I only lost one child, when I could have lost the other 2 and myself.
But knowing that doesn't really make me feel any better. After the fire came a lot of guilt. I was given this child to protect. It is a part of an agreement that you take the first time you hold your baby in your arms. I felt I had failed my child. I should have died trying to find him. Why did God take him? He should have taken me instead. I would have gladly gone if it would have spared my child.
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