When I Wasn’t Looking

The summer has flown by.  Where did the time go?  I blinked and I started another term in school (what was I thinking?); I took a nap and when I woke up it was time for the kids to start school again.  I turned around and now it’s fall. Wow, hello Halloween!

And it’s just past Heath’s birthday again and he’s in the forefront of my mind every minute.  I see him when I’m sleeping.  When I look at Noah and Avery, I see his face as much as theirs.  He’s getting ready to have his 2nd birthday in the stars.  How has it been 2 years already?  It feels like 2 minutes and 20 years all at once.  I feel like I’ve aged centuries since he took his last precious breath.

I’ve never said much about my faith.  It’s something that I’ve struggled with over my life during different seasons.  After we lost Zoe, I was adamant that although it was HORRIBLY painful, I was sure that He would see us through it, that surely something positive could come out of it.  I mean, it couldn’t be for nothing, right?  It wasn’t the same after Heath died.  I have had a difficult (that word is probably too mild) time understanding and accepting that there was a God that would take two of my babies from me, that would make me endure this pain again.  If I had a dollar for every time I asked the question “why?” I would be better off than Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.  There would certainly not be any need for me to work.

For a while, I have had multiple friends invite me to church.  I politely declined each time, being honest about the fact that I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to God.  They were sweet about it, never pushy, but didn’t give up.  Finally, I ran out of excuses.  I decided I might as well go and see how it went.

Well, it went.  I enjoyed the atmosphere and appreciated the sermon.  At one point, the pastor said that He was ready to meet us where we were.

So that got me to thinking:  Where am I?  As much as I search myself, I can’t find an answer.  It’s like knowing that I’m lost, but I can’t remember where I was trying to get to in the first place.

Who am I now?  I miss the person that I used to be.  I miss the mom that didn’t worry that every time the kids left the house, whether or not they were going to come back (even .  I miss the person that wasn’t quite as cynical about life, not as sarcastic (Ok, I’ve always been sarcastic, but I think it’s gotten worse).  I miss that I’m not that person anymore.  I wish I wasn’t still so angry.  I wish that he wasn’t the first thing I think about when I wake up, realizing that my dreams of him running around were exactly that — dreams.  I wish that I could go to an event of the kids, and not think about the fact that Heath will never have that moment.

But I this is where I am.  While I’m becoming used to this being this person, it’s not someone I ever wanted to be. 

But I’m trying.  I’m trying to find the faith that I had before, while I know God is still waiting for me.  I’m trying to figure out how to… do life.  I kept thinking that after so much time (like after 1 year, or 2 years or ___ amount of time) I would feel… better.  Some days are okay and I don’t think about him every second.  But there are still others that make it hard for me to take a breath, like a car is sitting on my chest.

I guess that’s the reality of grief.  You continue life, but then in a split second, you’re right back to when it happened, whatever your “it” is.  There’s going to be days when you can smile and not be completely faking it.  And then there’s other days that make me was to throw plates at the wall (I’ve come close, but never done it).  I guess you just have to keep trudging through.

When I wasn’t looking, 2 years flew by.  When I wasn’t paying attention, my sweet little people had birthdays.  When I wasn’t looking, time ticked by.  When I didn’t see, the sand was falling through the hourglass with no end in sight.