Sunday, August 22, 2010
There's a feeling I had that I don't want to
forget.
A week ago, I was sitting in sacrament meeting in New Jersey and thinking about Ty, realizing that day marked 159 days since he passed away, and not a day has gone by that I don't think of him off and on throughout the entire day. I know it's the first thing Dan thinks about when he wakes up, too, and before he falls asleep. Sometimes I wonder, years and years down the road, if there will come a day when we don't think about him so much... What if I miss a day? If that happens is it supposed to be a good sign of progression in my healing? Will this young time in my life seem far away and so long ago that it's only a distant memory?
And then I cringe and hope that never happens. As painful as it is to miss him, it's what helps me feel close to him; to feel a part of him. I hate the pain but I don't want to let it go too far. I know in my heart it doesn't mean I love Ty any less... But I hate that my life is moving on without him. I want so much to be pregnant... to allow life to carry on and for Dan and I to continue to grow as parents. But I know I won't miss Ty any less. I'm actually a little afraid that I'll miss him even more, and for the guilt I might feel as I hold a new baby. But I have to believe that a new baby will also bring such happiness and love to our home, and that Ty will be proud, too.
Sitting in the pew, I thought about Ty as an adult spirit, wondering what he is up to and how often he visits me, probably sometimes when I don't even know it. I remember how strange I thought it was when I first learned that his spirit is not a baby, but grown and mature. Despite feeling happy he is not helpless, I didn't like thinking of him grown up and not needing me anymore. As his mother, my relationship for him was caring for him in every way. What use was I to him now? Could he really love me and still know me? Do I really even know him anymore?
That Sunday, as I thought about these questions once again, and imagined my grown little boy's spirit, a very good, strong feeling rushed through me; almost like a feeling of excitment and joy. In that instant I felt my answer, and precious words came to my mind: He knows you, and you know him, and he loves you so very much. I smiled with a sure understanding, filled with relief and love.
It's moments like these that I need to cherish and not question, and always fall back on when I'm having a hard day or a time of doubt.
Oh, I miss him. I miss him so much.
A week ago, I was sitting in sacrament meeting in New Jersey and thinking about Ty, realizing that day marked 159 days since he passed away, and not a day has gone by that I don't think of him off and on throughout the entire day. I know it's the first thing Dan thinks about when he wakes up, too, and before he falls asleep. Sometimes I wonder, years and years down the road, if there will come a day when we don't think about him so much... What if I miss a day? If that happens is it supposed to be a good sign of progression in my healing? Will this young time in my life seem far away and so long ago that it's only a distant memory?
And then I cringe and hope that never happens. As painful as it is to miss him, it's what helps me feel close to him; to feel a part of him. I hate the pain but I don't want to let it go too far. I know in my heart it doesn't mean I love Ty any less... But I hate that my life is moving on without him. I want so much to be pregnant... to allow life to carry on and for Dan and I to continue to grow as parents. But I know I won't miss Ty any less. I'm actually a little afraid that I'll miss him even more, and for the guilt I might feel as I hold a new baby. But I have to believe that a new baby will also bring such happiness and love to our home, and that Ty will be proud, too.
Sitting in the pew, I thought about Ty as an adult spirit, wondering what he is up to and how often he visits me, probably sometimes when I don't even know it. I remember how strange I thought it was when I first learned that his spirit is not a baby, but grown and mature. Despite feeling happy he is not helpless, I didn't like thinking of him grown up and not needing me anymore. As his mother, my relationship for him was caring for him in every way. What use was I to him now? Could he really love me and still know me? Do I really even know him anymore?
That Sunday, as I thought about these questions once again, and imagined my grown little boy's spirit, a very good, strong feeling rushed through me; almost like a feeling of excitment and joy. In that instant I felt my answer, and precious words came to my mind: He knows you, and you know him, and he loves you so very much. I smiled with a sure understanding, filled with relief and love.
It's moments like these that I need to cherish and not question, and always fall back on when I'm having a hard day or a time of doubt.
Oh, I miss him. I miss him so much.
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