Sometimes I'm fine. I talk with my friends or my family; I might even laugh a bit. I went to the pool today with Becca. We had fun until a family came in--a mom, dad, little boy, and baby. I had to leave. Gary and I had dinner with his family tonight. We played cards and had a great time. And then we drove home. In the stillness of the car we watched the lightning race across the sky. I've always loved storms, the majesty and brilliance of the whole event. It hit me that I never got to watch a storm with Carter. Then I was sad. Sad for me because I feel cheated out of those special moments. Sad for him because he was cheated out of life.
I know he did good. I know his story is still spreading, and new people are reading this blog each day. I know that in some way God is getting glory because we have had "such strong faith" through all of this and because Carter made people "appreciate life." And I'm happy for all of that. Don't get me wrong, I do realize that his life was not wasted. But I miss him.
We went to his grave tonight for the first time. It is beautiful. There were several bouquets, a teddy bear, and even a very special note written to him (God bless you A.M.!) I know he's not there. But his body is. That beautiful little body that I tried so hard to memorize. Those sweet little fingers and toes. Those big brown eyes that seemed to contain so much wisdom and understanding. That round little belly that must have hurt him so. I want so badly to hold him once more. I knew the moment I let go of him that Monday night that my arms would forever be empty, but I could not imagine then the sorrow that would accompany the emptiness.
Gary describes it so well when he says that if he allows himself to really think about it, the pain is unbearable. There are times when i just cannot breathe, when the sadness just overcomes me. I feel ripped apart, punched in the gut, stabbed thru the heart.
I'm not mad at God. I'm not. I don't have the energy to be mad. I'm just disappointed. God must have heard the hundreds of prayers asking for healing for my little boy. He had to have known how much we all wanted it. And yet he chose to let him die. I don't understand this from the One who is supposed to listen to and answer prayer. So many try to comfort with the old addages: "Sometimes his answer is 'no'," or "God gave Carter the ultimate healing." But these words mean nothing to me because my arms are empty.
I never in my life have questioned God's existence. Never once have I doubted the place called heaven. I guess I've never really faced any major loss or obstacle, only minor bumps and curves. But this--this is big. I'm trying so hard to keep my faith. I want to believe that God is here, that Carter is in heaven, and that there is a grand design. But what kind of a god takes away a child from two loving parents? What kind of a god forms the inward parts of a baby and makes so many mistakes?
It is so easy to say that Carter is in heaven, that I'll see him again someday, and that God is here to comfort me. I want these things to be true. But I just hurt to bad right now. I asked for a miracle, we all did. And God let us down. I took off my "expect miracles" bracelet Friday after the funeral. It tore me apart to read those words around my wrist. I realized then that I no longer expected a miracle. I'm sorry Linda and Sharon--I just cannot wear it right now.
I know this is not what I'm supposed to write. But it's what is in my heart at this moment. This middle of the night--can't bear to go to bed until I've reached complete exhaustion--dreading walking past his room moment.
I know that my hurts will lessen with time. My wounds will heal. The sadness will slowly turn to joy as I'm able to recall the happy memories more often than the horrible nightmares. It will come with time. I don't need a response. I just need to sort all of this out on my own.