Why Lucas was special

So many reasons. He was this strong little boy who went head first he knew nothing of. He had no idea what was coming. Maybe that was best. Neither did we (know what was coming). We thought we did; but there was this sharp fork in the road we could not see. It was a hard left turn. The kind where you spin helplessly out of control and end up on an embankment with your head between your knees while your car is turned up on it's side. When the wind gets knocked out of you and you can't breathe for awhile? That kind of out of control spinning crashing landing.

When I look back and remember my time with him, I remember certain things vividly. I have talked about them over and over again. Please know, the curse of having lost a child is the constant running in your head. It spills out here now and again. The frustration of the legal battle only magnifies everything to the fullest. That is the understatements of all understatements.

I remember going on this tangent of wanting to be the best cook ever when he was tiny. I didn't have enough on my plate, I suddenly wanted to be Rachel Ray number 2. I would scour her cookbook (the only one I have) and pick certain recipes and go to town. I would be cooking while holding him and he'd fall asleep on my shoulder as I moved around the kitchen talking to him, cooking, and checking on the oldest from time to time. He loved being close to me, on my shoulder, I can't imagine for the life of me why, it's not like a shoulder is cushy. But I'm so glad. It's one of the fondest memories I have. The countless countless times he did that. Day or night, nap or regular bedtime, falling asleep on my shoulder. Neither of my other boys have done that. Just him. The littlest will now rest his head on my shoulder from time to time but mostly, not and mostly he's so very active, it doesn't last for long and he's moving on to the next thing, no time for rest. I remember when he died and we got back home from Philadelphia, my husband I and walked through the door and we let it out. Crying, screaming, more crying, hugging, on our knees, gut wrenching pour your guts on the floor, pain. The most intense, bar none, bar NONE pain I've ever felt EVER was that day. The day he died, not good. The next day, worse, walking into our house without him, knowing it would always be without him, it was hell. Lower than low. And I just sat in the recliner chair downstairs and rocked and rocked holding the air, as if he were in it, and pretending, and I would have gotten an Oscar I know, pretending he was on my shoulder. Falling asleep. I sang the song. I rocked. I cried. I often wonder, what I more could have done to ensure my heart was torn out. It was like I needed to torture myself. And I couldn't stop.

To this day, I remember that. I remember my friend Dixie always wanting to take him and rock him. And he let her. I don't even think the littlest lets her do that now. He's too busy, off and going. Or he just wants his Mamma. Not that Lucas didn't. But he let her; you know? There was something so serene and special about him. I don't know. Can a child be born and know what is coming? Born with a purpose? There is a book that coincidentally, Dixie gave to the oldest recently when the littlest was baptized. It is called, Made for a Purpose. A child's book. We have read it twice. It so hits home. He gets it. I get it. The message is clear but you can read between the lines and get so much more. Since I've been there, to hell and back, I easily read between ALL lines and I see the message much more clearly than others might. So he was born with a purpose, made for a purpose but did he know it? I often wonder.

The day of the funeral, it was hard. My Dad tried to get me to leave the graveside after everyone left. I wasn't ready. He was trying to help. I wanted to rip everyone apart. Not his fault. Not my fault. I wanted to never leave there. I was so angry, I remember being so so angry and maybe it was aimed at God that day. That's ok, He can take it, right? I'm being really honest here. I remember the day, yet I don't. The last time I looked at pictures from that day, I say out loud, who was that? And that? I dont' remember that. That person was there? I had no idea. Just none. Are you kidding me? That happened and I was there? Surreal. The whole experience was surreal. It was an event and a life experience that marked me and changed me in ways I can never explain.

Fast forward to now. We were in the pool tonight and I was floating around looking at the stars. Thinking, wishing, and praying for peace. Where is he? Nearby? Far away? Is he looking down on us or is he right here with us or really, is it both? One day we'll know but by then, we won't be able to express it here on Earth. It's crazy isn't it? It's like life everlasting doesn't come full circle and we dont' get the full knowledge till we're at the next place. Heaven. Or wherever our next place is depending on what we believe; for me, it's Heaven. For Lucas, it's Heaven.

Each child born to this world is special in his own right. All for different reasons they hold these qualities. Sadly sometimes they remain unseen, untouched, and unencouraged by others. But give them the light and the love and they bloom and grow. I hope to God I gave that to Lucas because although he didn't get to bloom and grow like the oldest and the littlest, it let him know how much he was loved. And let me tell you, if he was here right now, even though he would almost be four years old, with the knowledge I have today, I'd still be rocking him right now. You couldn't stop me with ten thousand men. That you can bet your life on.

Lucas' Mom.