Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Life and Death

After losing Joshua, the phases of grief and gifts have been unexpected and scary. I seem to move through the stages (fear and anger the most) and have also made up a few of my own. I am amazed at how almost 6 years later; his death is affecting me like it occurred yesterday.




Last night as I cuddled up in bed in front of the first fire of the season, I read over many Chicken Soup Books in search of the few that I know my Aunt Jackie has written in. I knew my Great Grandmother and Great Grandfather were in those pages. The realization of how many people I have lost, and how many stories they have taken with them has truly become a passion of mine recently. My grandmother must feel like she is being interviewed each time I am around her. “Grammy what is your favorite color”, “What is one of your favorite sayings”. She smiled and tried to recall. Joshua taught me so much! I fully intend to take the lessons learned.



Blessings

Amanda

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

NEVER

Have you seen my son? I cannot find him. I looked to the trees where I last knew he was and could not see him there. I climbed to the top and looked to the skies and they were void of a child, my child.




I thought I might retrace his steps the last day I knew of him. The places he went, the people he saw and even the things he had to eat, but many of these places are locked away from me. So I could not find him there.



I did indeed talk to those he loved. There are three I know. They come to see me, and they come to sit while with him. There stories bring me closer, but as quickly as my heart recalls my baby boy, the story ends and I am lost again.



I sit all day long with his body a body that by now must be fading into the ground. We talk. I talk mostly. I supposed maybe he’d like to talk but cant. I rock back and forth like I did all the days of his life and I can almost hear him say “mommy”. He only called me mommy, not mom, not mother. Mommy!



I sing him the songs we sang. But the little noises he used to make as he tried to mimic me are gone in the wind.



I barter with God a God who turned his back on me. I beg him and plead with him for just one more moment with my son. But he never even acknowledges me. I pledge myself to him; I barter and beg with anyone who might help me. Nothing happens.



I write until I cannot write anymore, until the words fall of the edges of the page and until my hands and my heart are to fatigue to continue. I write to him, about him, I write my pain and my joy. I write my devotion.



I cannot find him in anything that might linger and make me feel better. I will never hear him speak or sing again, I will never feel his arms around me again, I will never place my hands in his long curly black hair or hold him again. NEVER. My heart does not accept this and my mind understands it all to well.



NEVER AGAIN.