I left our home one evening, X-box turned up, my daughter reading aloud, my husband on a work call, and the television blaring. I was heading across town to pick up dinner, by myself, excited for just a moment of calm--silence. I ran into the restaurant and grabbed our dinner, got back in the car and again...silence. Any mom can appreciate this word and all that it entails! As I back out of my parking spot I stopped and became overwhelmed at what I was facing. Right in front of me was the Orthodontic office where Joel and I had spent many afternoons after school. Quite a few of those appointments were because of his love for skittles and bubble gum...brackets=0, candy=1. For some reason the office was lit up this night, I could see the cappuccino machine, and the game room. Tears began to fall from mine eyes as I could still see Joel pouring his 3rd cup of hot chocolate. It became harder to breathe as I remembered him using the "magic wand" to relieve some of his pain from how fast his teeth were moving, he laughed the entire time, looking at me, shaking his head at my returned laughter and teasing. My eyes closed and I remembered the treasure of him walking out of his last appointment. He got in the car and with a very serious look on his face he said " I have to wait another 4 weeks to have them off". For the first time he had fooled me! I looked at him and said I was so sorry and to hang in there...he then burst into laughter and smiled that oh so handsome smile of his <3 That boy...That amazing son that I shared something beyond this world with... His request for two double cheeseburgers plain was made known, and we were off.
There I sat, alone, sobbing in the parking lot. If I would have cracked my window the noise of the world would surely pour in. This noise of people living, rushing, conversing, seeking the next moment and what it holds. Not only does my faith in God set me apart, but this loss too... I feel as though I am on an island most days. A quiet island where the only noise is that of my reality. The absence of our son is louder than any "noise" I've ever heard or even felt. I pull myself together and drive home. Warm food on my passenger seat, and the silence of my broken heart enveloping me.
Everything we do has an echo of our Joel, missing the way we once knew life to be. Some people might assume that we're better now, or that we've got it figured out in some way--and I need to pray for them. I need to ask God that He would give them a better understanding of just how life long this pain truly is. I would never ask that they know this feeling of despair, but that they would just respect it's presence and how very real it is. That the people we once were, has forever changed. Change isn't always comfortable, and it can actually be such a great blessing in disguise. My faith in God has changed in measure--I seek His face more and more, and recognize His strength in my frailty and weakness. More importantly, others can see How strong our God is, through anything good they might see in me. He shows me that there is still so much beauty ahead of me and that the ashes are a reminder of His resurrection and our Salvation. So amid the noise, I am thankful for the silent moments...the silence that surrenders my pain and allows a space-- precious time for me to remember the many treasured moments I have spent with our son--memories that bring tears of both sadness and profound joy <3 Through it all, God is so good <3
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