Time Marches On

So here, finally, is the truth. TIME MARCHES ON ... I do not want it to and, in fact, become quite enraged at times that it does. Sometimes it feels as if all of creation, including God, has forgotten that my Danny is no longer here with me. I know that's not true in my head, but my heart finds it much harder to process and agree with that statement.

As the first year blurs into the second, I am struck with how *usual* life seems to be. Everything seems to run the same as before. The car still starts when I turn the key in the ignition. The fire still lights when I put a flame to the propane at the stove. C is continuing to grow up and mature. A and C have both surpassed their age in years by this early childhood loss of their brother, their protector, their closest and dearest confidant. I frequently wonder how bereft they must have felt at the loss. A had met Danny when she was 7 and he was 5, but C had know him all of her 10 years of life. I cry. Whenever I remember that my girls lost a brother, something I never had, it makes me unbearably sad even now and I am moved to tears.

The tears come much easier as the time passes. I had the errant thought that once the initial time of mourning was over, I would be more like myself. That I would be less emotional. Things did not quite work out that way. I quit wondering what people think of me and when some little girl at the airport blurted out to her mom "Hey mom, why is that lady crying? Do you think she is ok?", I just smile sadly at the mom. Usually, she shushes her child and I am left thinking that I will never again be able to say to Danny "Hey, do you mind here? We're watching a movie!" when he incessantly talks through the whole thing, wanting explanation after explanation for what is going on in said movie. Or how I'll never get to see him be best man in his sister's wedding. 

During this time, a bit after the 2nd anniversary of Danny's death, I asked a dear friend in Alaska if she had any work for me. She responded with "I always can find work for you, dear friend." So I go. I spend 10 weeks working at the new women and children's shelter; organizing the donations room, networking new computers, everything to keep my mind occupied. Then I do it. I drive out to the cabin where we had said good-bye to Danny on September 1st, 2004, as we set out to Mexico and he to Oregon to stay with his dad. I stood on the porch and in no time at all found myself overwhelmed with feelings of remorse. Questions ran through my head unfettered by logic or reason and I had no answers. Nor do I now. "Why didn't we make him go with us?" "Did I love him enough while he was here?" "Is God punishing me because I wasn't the mom I should have been?" On and on they went. There is nothing worse, in this life, than questions there are no good answers for. I have always said that I don't believe in regret. Well, until Danny died, that was more true than not. But I have hurt a lot of people in my life and I do believe that Danny was among those injured. For the injuries that I inflicted along the way, whether knowingly or unknowingly, I am sorry.

I no longer hold myself responsible for Danny's passing. I know that when God put Danny on this earth, it was just when I needed him most. And God knew how long Danny would be here. 

At that point of my life, things would have gone so much more wrong than they did if Danny had not been in my life. He was the reason that I quit my self-destructive behaviors. He was the cause for my wanting a better life than that of an abused woman living with an abusive husband. He was my reason to go on when I didn't feel like going on. He was with me through two divorces, neither of which was pleasant OR amicable, and he was consistently by my side. There was an incredible bond there that I had never felt before and, quite frankly, have never felt since. Nor do I expect to ever feel that bond again.

He was the love of my life. There. I said it. And God didn't strike me dead. 

Someone said to me shortly after Danny's death "Well, perhaps God took Danny because He felt you were using him as a substitute for God." Well, I choose to not believe that for a second! I loved my son as any good mother loves her child. Unconditionally. With tons of love and heaps of caring for him. He was like an extension of me and I didn't go anywhere he could not go for the first 5 years of his life. I quit going to bars ... at all ... because if Danny couldn't be there with me, it wouldn't be near as much fun!! He was the apple of my eye and that never changed.

I have gone to Danny's grave exactly twice since we buried him. I cannot go back. The inscription carved on the stone is beautiful and a true expression of who Danny was, but he is not there. Yet even knowing that does not stop my heart from ceasing to beat when I stand at his grave. I was in fear for my very life both times I stood there. I was totally convinced that when Danny died, I would die to. I did not. Physically, I am still very much the same person. A little heavier, definitely older and yet no wiser than I was then. I am still no closer to understanding why he was taken when he was. The difference now is that I am at peace with that. For me, the most interesting thing is that I am at peace with Danny's death, not knowing why he died and feeling like it's ok to not have all of the answers.

Do I still grieve for my son? Yes. But the most important thing I have learned is this ... "Even when I don't know or understand God's plan, HE DOES!" Thankfully, I have a dear Father who is watching over me even as I burst into tears in front of Him. When I scream into the night that I don't understand, He does not judge me but loves me just the way I am ... where I am ... for who I am ... and WHOSE I AM.

The biggest difference for me now is that I have a little tape recording in my mind that constantly plays "I am a child of the King. Look at how He cares for the smallest of these, His creatures ... surely He will care for me." And He does. When I am awakened out of a deep sleep at 2:30am now, I know it's because He is talking to me. I do my best to listen. I pray that what I write here helps others to know that He is real. That He is unchanging. That His love is unconditional and remains the same.

Read this, then close your eyes and visualize what I describe here.
     You are standing at a chasm, with God on the other side. You look all around but see no way  to get across to your dear and best friend. The Jesus walks up, kisses your cheek and says "Don't worry my child. My love for you has made a way" and He proceeds to lay down, spreading Himself over the chasm so You can walk on Him to get to the Father. As you walk across, you can't help but notice the nail holes in His hands as His arms are splayed wide. You are struck by the awesome incredibleness of this, the BIGGEST ACT OF LOVE EVER. You walk across to the Father and, falling to Your knees, You beg His forgiveness for every thing you've ever done wrong. Every lie you've ever told. Every soul you've ever injured. Every person you have cut to the core with your tongue. You are moved to ask Jesus "Why? Why were you willing to do this for ME?" His answer is simple yet poignant ... "Because My Father desired a relationship with you but His holiness kept Him from you in the state you were in. Because of the first man's sin, you were lost to Him. That saddened me so I did the only thing I could think of ... I died in your place."

WOW. Even in the grieving process, or perhaps it's really especially through this process, it is imperative that I remember that God has suffered the greatest loss of us all. Through no fault of His, His only Son, suffered and died so that we could be in relationship with Him. Please remember this ... If God didn't want us to know Him, we wouldn't. If He didn't desire a relationship with us, with YOU, Jesus would never have died on the cross.

He loves us all. Every single one of us. No one more than another. We are all equal in His eyes. And for that, I thank God. Ever. Single. Day. Every. Single. Moment.