Lucas

Three years ago today, my son Lucas died. He was only ten months old, just a baby. He tried to live. He fought to live. He overcame so many obstacles. Then his body was just holding on. Just long enough for us to figure out gracefully that he was waiting for permission, the chance to go and rest. We told him to go. We finally could no longer be blind to what he was showing us, deaf to what he was telling us. Take God's hand. Go. We love you with a million hearts, but go. Be safe, be well. We'll see you soon. When he died a large part of the normal Jenn died too. Very little of her has come back and in it's place, a new person has grown.

His heart was not perfect. We thought we could make it perfect but we were wrong. The doctor made his heart worse. There is anger seeded in that thought. Why that doctor? Why on that day did the doctor not fall and break his ankle? Why were we not in a car accident on the way to the hospital? Why didn't another doctor step in when it was obvious the operating surgeon was failing at the repair? A thousand why's. I could list for you one thousand of them. Literally, I promise you, it would only take five minutes for me to make the list.

It is a daily struggle to be the young 36 year old mother of three when two are on Earth and one is in Heaven. Daily. Days like today are difficult. Many many people have just come to not mention him at all. Not talk about him, or how we are feeling. Or remember when he did....because no, no one remembers except for us. And even at that, my memory is fading and it's very upsetting. I know that boy deserved to live. He was so little. Yet God's plan was this. How do you reconcile those two things? I won't know till I'm there and I won't be able to share my knowledge with you then on this blasted Blog because I'll be there and you'll be here. Crazy.

For all the knowledge I have come to posess, tears I have come to cry, and guilt I have never been able to let go of, I wish I had a cup full of the essence of Lucas. For a moment in time, it might help the pain. Dull as it may have become, it's still there. You wouldn't understand it if you haven't watched one of your children die before your eyes. It is a crushing thought and sometimes I still can't believe it happened to him, to all of us. Know this. Angels are flying all around us. Spirits who have passed on still help us now. I believe that. In little ways they show us they are here. It's whether or not you are willing to open your eyes wide enough to the possibility. In three years I can say I have made progress. Maybe not always perfectly but I have come a long way. My hope is this: That he is playing contentedly simply having fun and our hours and days are but seconds to him. He still hasn't missed me yet. I hope he still hasn't even turned around to look for me; for that thought, would kill me. Our years are their minutes. By the time I get to him, he'll just be getting around to saying, "hey where's my mamma anyway?" and there'll I'll be. How's that for irony? That's how it'll be.

and on that thought, I'm signing off. And for you Lucas, a kiss and a smile. Hugs will come later.

Mamma.