In a split second

December 11, 2010

Today it has been exactly three weeks since Joshua left us to go to the heavens.  The first few weeks have been surreal as we reacted with stunned shock and were walked through the motions of burying the earthly body of our youngest child and only son in a peaceful plot on the other side of what has become home....  Herndon, Virginia.

Many decisions were made directly following that split second when I went to awaken a sleeping child and discovered he had left us earlier in the morning. 

A place that we had merely laid our heads became home, and not only did we buy 1 burial plot, but three, putting Joshua between Brad and myself just like so many evenings in our bed as he was growing up.

Friends continue to be so supportive and wanting to help in any way possible.  It is not missed by us, but all the attention can be overwhelming when you are just trying to remember to breathe in and breathe out and adjust to the new normal.

I actually find some comfort in being at home alone.  The biggest contributor is my big fat cat who jumps up on the bed and snuggles nearby.  His purring relaxes me and in the early days of our loss, it was the only sleep I could find.

As each member of my family copes in their own unique ways, I so admire them all for how they came through this tragedy and make the most of every new day set before them.  As one daughter plans a big Christmas party and eagerly goes through the Christmas decorations I just couldn’t find the strength to use this year, the other misses her brother with quiet tears and offers constant support to her struggling parents.

The day of Joshua’s death, the minister told both girls, "either you believe or you don’t.  Now is when you decide", and I am happy to see that they truly do believe in The Living God and know they will see their brother someday.

For me, the pain has become great this past week.  The emotions are no longer shielded by the shock of loss and the constant pain in my stomach at times seems unbearable.

I continue to struggle with the “what ifs” and the trauma of my son's sudden unexpected and sudden death.   Nightmares give way to my sweet boy singing his songs, and friends in the medical profession have been able to explain things to me in a way that offers some peace.

The funniest thought came to my mind today while I was trying to Christmas shop for my family.  When I was in high school, our choir sang “The Monotone Angel”.  A song about a boy angel who wanted to join the heavenly choir, but when he tried, he sounded like a fog horn.  All these years I remember this song with fondness and it finally occurred to me why.  My son is the Monotone Angel, not because he couldn’t sing,  for Josh had perfect pitch, but because the monotone angel’s voice was cracking from the effects of puberty just like my Joshua.

May God Be blessed with the latest member of his Angel choir and remain patient with his ornery guardian angel with hair flying in all directions  as he runs all over heaven seeking out new adventures, humming happy songs and smiling endlessly.