1 month

I wish I could write poetry.  I wish I could make beautiful artistic things.  Or maybe play an instrument skillfully.  Maybe then I could have a less prosaic way of spilling my thoughts.

All I have are words.  So here they are.

One month ago I saw you for the first time and the last time. 
One month ago I wished time would slow down so that the moments I had with you would last longer. 
One month ago I watched everyone I love hurt all at once while standing in a semicircle around my bed.
One month ago I had my only chance to be your mother.

It's been a long month.  Those moments that flew while you were here have dragged since you left.  There was a week of saying goodbye, a week of healing physically, and now two and a half weeks of bumpy starts and stops, joy and grief, normal life and not normal life.  Of alternately longing for companionship and wishing desperately to be alone.  Of feeling strong and feeling weak.  Of accepting what is and wishing things were different.

It's unusually cold today.  I want so badly to be curled up on the couch with you, snuggling under a blanket, nursing, sleeping.  Instead I'm braving the weather to put flowers on your grave.

I want to be teaching your big sister how to hold you and care for you.  Instead I'm wondering how to explain your life and death to her because she seems so confused.

I want my house to be a wreck because my arms are full of you, not because my eyes are full of tears.

I want to be bad at carrying on a conversation because I'm sleep-deprived, not because my mind strays to October 13.

I want to be able to comfort others instead of reminding them of their grief and mine. 

One month ago I was afraid of today. Today I'm not afraid, because for the last month God has been the strength, refuge, joy, shield, and help He said He would be.  I don't know why I doubted Him, but now I have enough empirical evidence that doubt is no longer an option.  Like Thomas, who got to touch Jesus' scars. 

But I didn't know how strong He was until I became weak.  I didn't need a refuge until my life no longer provided one.  I didn't need joy until I had little of my own.  I didn't need a shield until there were things I needed to be shielded from.  I didn't need help until I couldn't do it myself.  And that's where I am, one month later.  And that's right where God wants me. 

And you, Arthur are right where God wants you.  Someday I'll get to be there too.