Sometimes, living in a world where Stuart isn’t, is just too much. It’s a cover my head with the covers and pretend the world doesn’t exist kind of day.
Today is a day like that.
Losing a child is something I hope you never understand (and if you are one of so many who have – then you know). No matter the age of your child, you were supposed to get to heaven first. You weren’t supposed to stand at the grave of your child. Your child should weep at your grave, not you at theirs. You were never supposed to see their name carved into the stone.
Hiding under the covers, blocking out the hard of this world seems like it might just work. Except it doesn’t. At some point, coming up for air is the only thing to do.
Breathing – it takes all you can do.
Your five senses have never been so obvious as when you lose a part of you. You long to catch a whiff of their scent, to hear the music of their voice and their big laughter. What a joy it would be to touch their hand, hold it and never let go. You would never let go! Seeing that smile and the twinkle in their eyes – what a vision. To taste their kiss or even the salt of their tears would be a treasure.
Loss is hard. Every day! I miss my son so very much!
… Someday, I’ll wake up in heaven. The cover will be lifted, and I will see everything from a different perspective. I’ll be with my Savior, and I’ll be with Stuart.
What a day THAT will be!