Today I am reminded of the lyrics of my favorite Mark Harris song:
It's only for a moment you are mine to hold
The plans that heaven has for you
Will all too soon unfold
So many different prayers I'll pray
For all that you might do
I cannot begin to describe my day. This week started like any other week. By mid-week though things were getting crazy. Eric's car had a 400.00 sensor break. Jaeg had an MRI scheduled for over spring break, which threw me for a loop. Then in passing conversation someone mentioned to me that a little boy in Olivia's preschool had died. I was so busy I guess I just forgot to ask what his name was, and it wasn't till Friday night that I realized I knew him.
Today was one of the hardest days of my life. I went to a funeral for a very special little boy. A child who touched everyone he met and changed them. He brought so much joy to the world in his 5 1/2 years of life. The church was packed with standing room only. We sat in back and I didn't even make it 5 minutes into the slide show before I started crying. As a parent I understood his mothers grief. I watched how strong his parents were. Olivia said to me, "Mommy don't get tears on me."
I cannot relate to you the amazing and overwhelming love that was in that church, or the grief. We as parents pray daily that we never have to face it. The thought of losing one of my children before me is devastating. My son's one seizure has totally turned our world upside down. I worry about little things and big things, but mostly I wonder if I can protect my children from the pain of this world. As my daughter questions death, I find myself wondering how to explain it.
It is impossible to describe, but it is like being in a tunnel. There are so many people who want to share your grief. They reach out, but are just outside your grasp. In passing we see th
em: strangers, friends, and family. They hug you and say words of comfort, but the truth is only time and God heal the wounds of grief.I will never forget today. The beautiful spring sunshine was bittersweet. I will hold my children close tonight, and I will pray. For I know that in the not so distant future I will face the MRI, and I have no words to describe the waiting.
I can't imagine the pain of the family. Death, of either myself, or my children, or even my husband is my absolute greatest fear in life. There aren't enough words or hugs to comfort that family who had to give their child back to God.
ReplyDeleteI will continue my prayers for them, their baby in Heaven and also for you to find the words to comfort Olivia. ((hugs))