Dates

Journal entry by Ann — Jan 16, 2019
I think everyone has a date or two that are difficult for them. They may make you nervous, anxious, sad, or it may be a day of dread. What ever the feelings you experience it is usually connected with some kind of trauma or pain. Though we all have milestone days. Some dates are remembered warmly and bring you joy or some dates that we use mark every other events off of. Our brains are like file cabinets carefully sorting and storing information and events. Though there are some files we may never want to open and might sometimes even avoid. There are dates I’d rather not have stored in my brain, files I wish didn’t exist, and ones I will open only when necessary.

On January 16, 2017 the call came from the sheriff and on January 21, 2017 it was over. Well, I thought it was over little did I know it had only just begun. These dates will forever cloud my thoughts. My heart will forever bare the wound of losing my Logan. The strange thing about those dates is that the 16th is much harder for me than the 21st. Why? I have pondered this for the last two weeks and I think I finally have the answer.
On the 16th we waited in the emergency room until we were told we could go back to see Logan, I didn’t expect much. As we walked through the doors I felt numb. My feet clumsily shuffled across the floor and around the desk. It was quiet, way too quiet. I knew my boy was in the room in the corner, a room I had kids in many times with ear infections, asthma issues, and stitches. This was his third time in that room, But this time I dreaded going in. I knew this would be no easy fix if there even was one. As we walked into the room I searched the faces of the staff working in the room for some kind of confirmation that he was okay, but they didn’t let their eyes meet mine. Their heads were down pretending to be busy. My rambunctious boy lay still on the bed. His head didn’t turn to look at me. That ever present smile was missing from his face. I walked up beside him and just stared. Yes, this was my son. Yes, his heart was beating. Then I looked into his eyes he had the best eyes. I always thought they looked like a marble with different colors of blue reflecting off of eachother. Still so beautiful, but now empty. I remember thinking his body is here, but he is gone. It was settled in my brain that I would never get to take my boy home. The doctor came with the truth and it was confirmed what I had already thought, not much chance for him to be home again. As the doctor spoke I thought it must be so hard for him to tell us devastating news in a nice way. On that day to me, he was already gone. The rest of the week was praying for the miracle that I knew God could do if it was all part of His plan. Though my heart was weighted with the truth.

I, like every one in my house have been mentally reliving that week. Though we are trying not to, there is no hiding what we are all feeling. I have been checking in with the girls this week, but I think we must all sit down and talk it through. A time to allow their hearts to be broken, tears to flood their cheeks, confess their fears, and verbally say they deeply miss their brother.

Please pray for the deep sorrow of the hearts in our house, the pain that never seems to go away, and that the grief process will bring some sort of healing and comfort.
Hugs and love, Ann