I really don't know how to post this without it just seeming one sided and making a national tragedy appear to be all about me...if that's the way I end up coming across, please know that isn't the intention, but with that being said, this is my blog, my place to put my feelings down in writing, and my way of working things out in my head, so really I guess it is about me.
I wanted to post on Angel Day, had every intention, but didn't have it in me. It was just a very low key day and I spent most of it just trying to recharge my batteries. The day after, I wanted to post and something told me to just wait, the time wasn't right. When the tragedy in CT happened on Friday, I think I knew why it just didn't seem like the time to talk about healing from the loss of a child. I hate that there are now a bunch of new members of the bereaved parent club. It's a club that no one ever wants to be part of and spends a good chunk of time as a parent trying to stay out of, but due to circumstances out of our control, here we are. The good news is that we all love, support and understand each other. For a club whose membership is forced upon you, there sure are a lot of great people who I wouldn't have had the privilege of knowing otherwise.
It's appalling to me to see how many people are looking at a situation like this and questioning the existence of God. I just don't understand how they don't see that the only way these families are even putting on a brave face while picking out a casket for their children is because God is there guiding them through this. The outpouring of love, support, prayers, money, and people just asking what they can do is God's work. Millions of parents going home Friday evening and declaring it to be family night so they can hang out with their kids that they just gained an appreciation for instead of everyone going their separate ways as usual is God's work. Tragedy should make our faith grow stronger, not drive us to question our faith.
The thing I am so grateful for concerning my time spent with Arthur is that we knew that his stay on earth was limited. People have asked me time after time how hard it was knowing that we wouldn't have him long, and I have to say I felt like it was a luxury. We knew not to take a minute for granted. We took him everywhere, even stopped for dinner and shopping on our way home from the hospital. We went to school Christmas programs and holiday shopping through the snow and large crowds. That's something that most people wouldn't dream of doing with a newborn, but we had the luxury of getting to be a little reckless in order to pile on the experiences for him. Yes, I'm a bereaved parent, I know the feeling of telling my child good bye for one last time. I know what it's like to hold the lifeless body of my baby hoping that he's just sleeping a little too deeply. Honestly, on the evening he passed, I didn't completely believe that he was really gone until I saw his toenails change color and felt rigor set in. That is an image that will never leave my mind and haunts me endlessly.
I know exactly what if feels like to lose the person who you are in charge of keeping safe and healthy, but what I don't know is the horror of being completely blindsided by the news that your child is no longer with you. I know it's sometimes a challenge to get a little one off to school in the mornings. I'm certain one or two of these kids spilled a whole box of cereal on the kitchen floor, lost their shoes, or made their parents late for work. I'm sure there was at least one of these children who was certain to be grounded until he was 35 over something that happened that morning, and now that the world has changed, that parent feels like the biggest heel who ever walked the planet. Over the next few weeks, I think we will all be a little more aware of our children's mortality, but will we continue to treat them like this might be their last day on earth 2 or 3 months from now? Will we forget that we should never walk away angry because that person you're angry with may never come back? I recall as a child, my dad would get so infuriated with my behavior and I was completely deserving of his lectures. I also remember that every corrective action ended with the same words, "I'm only yelling at you because I love you, dammit". Up until this past week, I always found humor in this line, but now I realize that he always made sure to let me know that it wasn't me he was mad at, it was my behavior, and that he loved me no matter what. Had I gone on to school and not come home that day, he would have never had any regrets about the way he treated me at all.
To me, the bring home message to the event that has surrounded our thoughts this weekend is to never take a moment with someone you love for granted and to never let someone go away feeling as if you are angry with them. One thing I can be most proud of from my experience with Arthur is that there was never a moment in his life where we didn't talk to him or treat him with the utmost of kindness and respect. How many other people can check out of this world without ever having been spoken to unkindly?
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