Christmas

Two thousand years ago, God sent his only Son to save a sinful world.  Mary gave birth to a baby boy who would one day save her soul.  God knew on the cold, lonely night that one day, His baby boy would die with the sins of the world on his shoulders. But he still allowed Mary and Joseph to raise that little boy, to love and care for him with all they had.

Eight years ago, I had a baby boy whom I love with all my heart.  I cared for him, kept him safe and healthy.  I kissed his boo-boo’s and brushed his hair, just a Mary did for Jesus.  Mary had Jesus for 33 years, before watching him take his last breath.  I had Luke for 7 years, before cradling him while he took his last breaths.

I firmly believe Jesus met Luke in the water.  He held my baby boy and kept him from being afraid.  I KNOW  Luke is with Jesus now, planning a huge birthday party for the King of Kings.  I am pretty sure Luke is trying to convince Christ to have spaghetti and chocolate cake for his birthday party, maybe even spaghetti taco’s.

Merry Christmas baby boy, give Jesus a birthday hug for me and please don’t try to give him birthday spankings!  I know you can count that high, that’s not the point.

Thanksgiving

I tried posting this last week, but Blogger and I weren't getting along.  So I am trying again.

Thanksgiving.  We made it through our second Thanksgiving without you here begging for the Witch bone.  This year wasn't nearly as hard as last year… the girls at work have been super excited about the holiday, spending time with family and of course the food.  It was easier to get excited about being off work and spending the day at home with J and K and your grandma.  We all ate dinner together, and of course ate way too much turkey.  I have been thinking about how 

Thankful I am for the seven years I got to be your mama.  You were my surprise baby, and you kept me on my toes.

I am thankful for the nights you slept in my bed, snuggling your hard head in my ribs or smacking me in the face.  I miss your bed head in the morning and your squeaky voice saying in a sing song way, “Good morning Mama.” 

I am thankful that you still wrote on the walls, the doors, the furniture and the scarecrow.  I still have all that “artwork” to remind me of you.

I am thankful for the dirty corner wall where you spent your time-outs, the nose and forward prints are your growth chart.

I am thankful for all your footie jammies, especially the ones I had to cut the feet out of so you didn't break your collarbone trying to wear them.

I am thankful for Austin and Mario, I snuggle them every night.

I am thankful for my last conversation with Thelma about your last days. Her theory is you came back that Saturday night, Jesus met you in the water and took you to heaven, but then He sent you back for the next day and a half.  You were here with me, you heard me say, “I love you baby.” You felt me kissing your hands and rubbing your arms and face.  You felt me brushing your hair and kissing your head and nose.  You heard your brother and sister at your bedside telling you they love you and encouraging you to wake up.

I am thankful that all of us know Jesus and have accepted him into our lives.  I am thankful that you are with Him and that one day we will all be together again. (The sooner the better.)

I love you bubberbutt!  I can’t wait until I can kiss your face again. 

Friday Night

Tom came.  On Friday night, after K asked to see her dad, he came.  My mom was here, Thelma (one of our new therapists, she picked Thelma from Thelma and Louise.) J was here.  It was awkward, tense and stressful.

He sat in the corner of the living room, I sat in my chair, K, grandma and Thelma sitting on the couch.  K tried and tried pushing his buttons, trying to get some kind of reaction.  Telling him of the last year, how hard things have been, how much she has struggled.  He sat, nodded and smiled.  There was no reaction.

J talked, played on his dad's phone and told him about his last year.  He skirted over the hard stuff.

The tension kept getting thicker.  The kids were sent outside to play.  Grandma went first.  18 years of words bottled up for so long were finally let loose.  Lines were drawn, the gauntlet thrown down.  When the steam ran out, I started.  While you have destroyed our family twice now, you go about your business, living your life like nothing has happened.  I am left to pick up the pieces, to put our kids back together again.  I blame myself for Luke's accident, J blames himself, K blames herself.  What responsibility do you take?  Excuses, might as well be crickets.  More excuses, no responsibility.  I am not surprised.  K appears indifferent, but I know her heart is breaking.  She wants to be a daddy's girl, and I have failed her in that.  I gave her a dad who has no idea what a precious gift she truly is.  J only knows how to relate to him with sports, but J is not a sports person.  Remind Tom of that.... anger seethes, face turns red, hands yank on fingers and pants.  Nothing has changed.  Nothing will ever change.

Have you been to Luke's grave?  Have you seen his stone?  If you are going to see it before it gets dark, you should leave now.

Kids in hives, stress of the weekend finally coming out.  Not able to say what needed to be said, manifests itself in their little bodies.

I can tell my kids all day and night dad is not going to change, he will always be like that.  But they will have to learn it for themselves.  I won't keep them from a relationship, but the rules have changed.

Memories

Sometimes my memories of Luke are so strong I can feel him leaning on me.  When I sit down to do homework, all of a sudden I will feel him leaning on my arm, asking how much longer because he wants to play on the computer.  I will see him running down the hallway and hear his silly giggle.  Our home is full of Luke memories, there is no place to hide from them.

I struggle with loving the memories that feel like he is here with wondering if he really is hanging around.  In my soul, I know my baby is safe in Heaven, surrounded by family and friends who went before him.  He is probably making the angels crazy trying to talk them out of their wings and swords.  But my heart and sometimes my mind want him here with me, even in spirit form.  What if he gets a day pass to come visit us, what if the goosebumps really are Lukie hanging on my arm or giving me a hug?

The past year has been the worst year of my life.  The kids still struggle with the loss of their brother and best friend.  J has PTSD and more anger than should ever be bottled up in a little boy. K struggles with guilt for not going that weekend and anger.  We have new counselors, yay insurance....  They have been good though.  We had Snap, Crackle and Pop at first because I fought to get them.  They knew the kids, they knew me, and most importantly, they knew Luke.  The new counselors are brand new and have experience and specialized in Traumatic Grief and PTSD.  I think they are going to prove to be invaluable in our future.