I have been very neglectful in writing on my post as of late. It is not that I have nothing to share because I do. It is more about the timing of my thoughts. As with all who write, we have our ideas come at the oddest and most inconvenient times. I often think deeply when I am alone (like on the lawn mower) or when I am trying to fall asleep. My mind becomes clear and filled with thoughts. It’s mostly depressing things…the world, the nation, the injustices, the wicked people, how life is only getting worse in many areas, death, death, and more death. By the time I have thought all these things and how powerless I am in this big world, I am just too depressed to write. One thing for certain is that I never run out of thoughts on the death of my son. His absence has made him more present. Every single day a thought, a memory, a question, makes itself known to me in some way or another.
Last night I yelled out my son’s name just to hear me say it. Often when I am alone I say his name over and over again as if I am subconsciously afraid that I will somehow forget it. Someone must say it and I am his mother. I will shout it!! BRANDON!! I would feel really embarrassed if someone came in on me…but grief brings about a certain insanity. Grief is unkind in so many ways. It transforms the normal into something unrecognizable. I can barely recognize myself anymore because of the changes that have come over me. My emotions can ambush me at anytime. I cry at the a moment’s notice.
The other day I was watching a movie called “The Impossible” on the Sundance channel. It is a true story about a family, mother and father and three sons, who survived the tsunami in Thailand a few years ago. With every hug and touch and feeling that was between mother and son in this movie I could actually feel them. I cried with abandon while being alone on my couch….no one to hear my futile sounds. I closed my eyes and knew that muscular yet still soft body of my 12 year old man-child who would suffer my eager embraces and forehead kisses. Those short lived years when Brandon was between the childhood of desired mommy kisses and that reluctant, stand-offish, easily embarrassment age when those same mommy kisses were swatted away. I could smell the boyishness of sweaty hair. My senses were charged during the realness of this well done depiction of tragedy. I cried for the mother who was desperate to save her child while they both were abused by rapid, angry water that kept them just within arm’s reach. I knew the anguish she bore of wanting to save him at any cost. I thought just how the metaphor of this terrible disaster and death of a my son has been for me. The wave came with a fierce urgency and left with the same vengeance while sucking my life away, spitting me out on some debris field where I was left to pick up the pieces.
While the tragic circumstances of this life still prevail until I die and reunited with my son, I know in my heart that without God’s grace that I am powerless to continue without the strength that only He can give. He stills the swirling waters when they come. When it seems that we cannot endure the impossible, God let’s us know that we can and do. Never in a million years would I have thought I could write a blog about the nature of loss especially about my sweet and wonderful son. I have often been told and probably have even said it myself that “ I would die if anything ever happened to one of my kids...” well, guess what! I did not die. I have wanted to die more so in the beginning. Those “death wish moments” are more fleeting now. It seems that God takes my mind off of it when they come. It happens this way…in one moment I am crying out Brandon’s name and wondering “why?” and in the next moment I am being amused at my dog chasing her tail. How can this be? I truly believe that is God’s way of comforting me…hugging me through. I can do all things through Christ. I never thought it possible to be a surviving parent. But here I am facing the impossible and being able to write about it.
This week my husband and I have both had very vivid dreams of kissing and hugging our son. It is odd since we hardly ever have similar kinds of dreams but we share them with each other if we have them, knowing that the other would like to know about it. Very timely since Brandon’s 37th birthday will be next week. But oh so real…thank you, Lord, for allowing us those brief but wonderful visits that we so seldom have. I give You the glory in all things concerning signs and dreams about our son. I know You have turned our great sorrow into the anticipation of better things to come. I know it is most definitely the way You comfort us when we least expect it. And we should always expect it. By now, I should never be surprised at just how You communicate Your peace to me so personally. I am a recipient of Your divine love and peace in this terrible time of the world..where evil is poisoning the very air we breathe, killing innocent people all over the world…..doing exactly what the Bible foretold. We should not be surprised by what is happening all around us. We should also not be surprised at the peace we are promised by holding onto You, Lord. I am still among the faithful who trust in Your promises even in these times of certain uncertainty. With God nothing is impossible.