Dream, Written in the middle of the night.

Wings




They were dark brown with white streaks and amazingly strong and beautiful. They spread out wider and seemed as if they could span an ocean. I thought I was looking at the wings when suddenly it was a strong neck that came into vision and then beautiful black curls. His curls. But they lined the back of the neck and I thought I was supposed to be seeing  something more closely on the neck.  Each time I tried to focus on the back of his neck to see what the words were, the dream faded. The scene then  cut to horses flying wildly in the night. A sky dark with grey and as I watched a black line entered my sight and fought with a white line. I felt the fight and begged the dark not to win. I was then back to the horse, white wings flying so strongly through the clouds. My thoughts were that this was an angel horse, my son's angel horse . I begged God to show me what I needed to see, to get me closer. The dream to me back to his  neck only this time it was simply the hair. Curly thick black hair, hair I would know anywhere, hair I would run my fingers through when Joshua was a baby. I cried, wailed and thanked God. Joshua has his curly hair back. I reveled in the feeling of how angelic he must look with his locks. I thanked God and rested realizing I was not supposed to see more…It was his hair I was supposed to “see” or more so feel.  He must be well. He must be happy now.


Then he began to fade, my body moved slowly away until he became a blur. I shouted to the heavens" please no, how will I come back?". "I cant leave".  A heart filled my vision and was the simple answer.

<3

Written in the middle of the night, unedited because this is exactly the gift I was given.

Christmas without Joshua

Christmas without you

Each year you loved Christmas. “Mommy (you always called me mommy) can we please leave Santa a note and cookies and milk and oh  and carrots for the reindeer”. You would ask in a voice that never changed. Then you would flutter upstairs and try everything you could to fall asleep. Your father and I would place the plate with the cookies and the milk and then take a bite, knowing how each year you were so astonished that Santa actually paused to eat and drink of your snack! . Your “happy thoughts” the ones that made you jump up and down and flap your arms like you might fly away, came often. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing, if one came your face lit up and you could barely contain yourself. Christmas morning was a time for many happy thoughts.



Today as I pulled out the box of Christmas decorations, your memory filled the living room. A wreath shaped cut out with a tiny school picture from 3rd grade, an ornament hand made with cousins, something of course with macaroni stuck to it and many other tokens of your happy childhood will again adorn my tree. I know that it is said that you cant take things with you, but I could never be more thankful for each earthly treasure I have left that your beautiful hands made.



Again just like the past many years, there is a hole in Christmas! A hole in my heart and one person missing at the table. I can only hope that you see me still doing all of these things, no matter how pointless they sometimes feel….so that I can stay close to your memory.



I miss you.



Mom

Three

Such a simple number and yet for me that number has changed my life.



I honestly can’t remember the first time I met them. I know they wont mind me saying that. I am not certain if they were at the funeral or the cemetery when Joshua was buried. Yet somehow I feel like they have been with me since the moment he took his last breath. Their names are Sam, Alyson and Evan. For a long time I did not even remember their names. Each year they would come to the anniversary of Joshua’s death, and wait their turn to sit near him. No matter rain or shine they were there.



Their story is simple. They knew Joshua. There reason for coming year after year is not so simple. His impact on them was life changing.



Now as I sit each year by my son on June 3rd and shed the tears of loss once again, I have also have something to look forward to. The three of them, driving up, coming over and sharing the same stories that I seem to keep forgetting almost as soon as they tell them.



To Alyson, Sam and Evan. Thank you for bringing some light into this very dark place.



Joshua’s Mom <3

Say Hello To Joshua For Me

A few days ago I offered to take my mother in law in from a nursing home to live out her last days with us. The suggestion seemed automatic and almost took me off guard. My husband seemed surprised and a few people were less than tactful about how crazy I was. Needless to say, they have shrunk to acquaintances on my list. The days since she came have been more exhausting that I expected, my torn ACL is making it so bad that I actually have had to crawl up and down the stairs to help her and I began wondering if this was the best place for her. I was not successful at getting her pain under control and her screams were to loud for the kids and neighbors. Last night I was at my wits end and as I fell asleep I was asking God why I did this anyway. I know the usual answers, that it is directly related to what Tom did for me after Joshua, but there has to be more.


This morning I awoke feeling better. The knee is terribly painful, but my spirits were up and I began to really work on being positive and looking for the gifts that were in store for me. They came tonight.

Most of the day was spent peacefully for Claire. I upped the morphine and the patches must be working on her back to give her constant care. I brushed her hair, filed her nails a bit more and she was washed down by a wonderful home health aid. After a few hours of rest I went back downstairs with my Bible and sat on a stool near her. The bible is not something I have touched since Joshua died, however it was to read to her and I surely could do that. "Claire may I read to you from the Bible"?, "I know that you have always loved church and I would like to read to you". She nodded with eyes half open. I went directly to the Psalms, a book of joyous poems, praises and less heavy on the fire and brimstone than I felt she would need.  So I read and from what I have learned, she listened. Then I talked to her about heaven and told her that her mom and dad are waiting to see her and missed her all this time! And that Jesus was waiting with open arms to see her. She began to ask over and over "why are you telling me this"? I sang a round of Jesus love me (you) and then asked Claire if I could pray with her. It brought me back to the days in the nursing home when I knew someone was about to pass and I would pray with them.....It was definitely against the rules.

Dear Lord,

Please take Claire’s pain away and be merciful to her now in her last hours. Ready the wings of angels to take her swiftly into the arms of her Father. Help those of us who love her to let her go and know that she is in a better place without pain. Thank you for showing me favor as you chose me for the honor of taking care of Claire in these last hours. Now please be with us all as we ready ourselves for this journey into the unknown and make Claire certain that it is ok if she allows herself to let go.

Amen

As I spoke the words Amen, I was suddenly surrounded by God. I felt a lightness and intensity. I was unable to catch my breath and I knew I was in the presence of holiness. I could feel nothing but my son. I lifted my eyes up to the heavens and waited as if to see him and to feel the heavens open up and take me. I spoke to Joshua, he spoke to me. He told me how proud of me he was. I told him I was sending him a gift that I took care of, sang to, and loved the best I could as a message to his honor. He got it! He knew. As much as Tom matters, as much as Claire matters, I have to wonder if part of me was hoping that by caring for her, by holding her hand and giving her water, if I wasn't writing to my son a love letter through her. She will be in my home and after that she will be near my son, near my God....and again I will have had a fleeting moment, before I hear "it is not your time" and I am left here. But for now when someone asks me why I am doing this.....It is to be that much closer when the heavens open and the light shines down and her spirit is lifted. Maybe, just maybe I will catch a glimpse into heaven, and maybe just maybe I might see Joshua once again.

Claire Pool was a wonderful woman, who loved horses and church and singing. She loved Tommy with her entire heart and did her very best to care for him with that which she was able. She sat in church all of her life and loved God and He loved her back. Please say a prayer for the Tom this night as he says goodbye to her.

~Blessings

The Joshua Tree

Last night I decided to look on the Chicken Soup For The Soul’s web page to see If there was anything new and if the upcoming books had the book our story is in. Much to my surprise Chicken Soup For The Soul Grieving and Recovery is in book form and as I looked all I could see what this big beautiful tree on the cover. A tree just like the one that has been saving my life, sheltering me and taking care of Joshua since he left me. With that a sure of tears poured out of me as I decided that this tree is also our tree. As I stared at the cover what seemed a moment, but was truly hours. I began to imagine Joshua tucked within these pages, how his memory will rest gently on the shelves of bookcases and at bookstores and how honored he would be to know that mommy did this.



Chicken Soup may have no idea the impact the cover has had on me. As I read through the many years of books they have published I realize just how small Joshua and I are, in the realm of pain and how large we are in the realm of blessings. I doubt they decided that would be the Joshua Tree, but I do know that when I am called to write or do most anything in my life that is not controlled by me, angels always appear later to let me know it was intended. I have received such a gift in being allowed to rest my son on these pages. There is nothing harder for a mother who has lost a child, than to constantly think he might be forgotten. I often find myself testing my memories to make sure I stay sharp and keep all of him.



The book is scheduled for release on Feb 1st. I have to keep forgetting about it in order to let the time pass. I can feel the pages already in my hands. I can taste the tears and I can see myself sitting with him at the cemetery reading it to him and hoping he likes it. Under the Joshua Tree.



~~~Love,

Joshua’s Mommy

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

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.