When I was growing up, my dad would always say, "3 years later" when waiting for something for too long. We've said it to our daughter and she takes a spin of her own (1000 years later, 10 light years later, etc.). It's strange that I connect that amusing memory with my life now...10 years later.
My wedding anniversary is the day before Trey's Angel Day. Our pastor told us to wait, to not turn off Trey's machines on our anniversary as it would mar our special day. He was the pastor who officiated our wedding, the pastor who memorialized Trey, and Baptized our daughter. He was also the man who told me, when I said I hated God, that God understood, that God is angry and mourning too.
We waited alright. As we heard our son's fate and that he would not have any quality of life that the hospital pastor asked me, "How are you feeling right now?" (Such a trite question considering his profession). I told him I wanted to die. He asked, "What about your husband?". I said, "I'm sure he wants to die too.". As we left the NICU that day, I was sobbing loudly and a stranger told me that it was going to be ok. I snapped back "MY SON IS DYING!!!". I wish I could apologize to her, but the truth hurts.
This post went a little deeper than I anticipated but I am glad for it. It is cathartic to tell the raw truth. Stay tuned for part 2, I need to wrap myself around the reason why I diverted the topic though I promise I will continue as long as I need.
Such is grief, it turns and twists when you least expect it, especially when you're in a good place.
My wedding anniversary is the day before Trey's Angel Day. Our pastor told us to wait, to not turn off Trey's machines on our anniversary as it would mar our special day. He was the pastor who officiated our wedding, the pastor who memorialized Trey, and Baptized our daughter. He was also the man who told me, when I said I hated God, that God understood, that God is angry and mourning too.
We waited alright. As we heard our son's fate and that he would not have any quality of life that the hospital pastor asked me, "How are you feeling right now?" (Such a trite question considering his profession). I told him I wanted to die. He asked, "What about your husband?". I said, "I'm sure he wants to die too.". As we left the NICU that day, I was sobbing loudly and a stranger told me that it was going to be ok. I snapped back "MY SON IS DYING!!!". I wish I could apologize to her, but the truth hurts.
This post went a little deeper than I anticipated but I am glad for it. It is cathartic to tell the raw truth. Stay tuned for part 2, I need to wrap myself around the reason why I diverted the topic though I promise I will continue as long as I need.
Such is grief, it turns and twists when you least expect it, especially when you're in a good place.
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