Not a single day goes by where I don’t think of Conner at least a million times. his presence and memory envelope me in everything I to, every place I go and never ceases. I miss him terribly. I don’t too often allow myself to wallow in the pain, or even think about the deep emotions that are behind the phrase “my son has passed away” because that’s truly an easy phrase to say…as long as you don’t connect it to emotions. but in silence and stillness I allow myself to connect it. to feel it. and it’s just so intense I swear its like he just left yesterday. I’m used to the pictures of him hanging in our home, I’m used to the medications being gone and his room remaining empty…but connecting the pain to the truth. reality. it’s still too much for me to handle. I believe that there must be a million silent suffering parents in this world. in the craziness of this world, I know that children die every single day. parents openly grieve. but then slip into a silent suffering. a pain that is too deep and too intense to even talk about to anyone. because nobody will understand. nobody ever could imagine it. in these moments when I sit and just think of Conner it’s still debilitating. and he’s been gone 13 months. really?
can that possibly be true?
maybe Ive fallen for the common misconception that in this life we should strive for contentment. to find a peace and happiness in every aspect of our lives. I see the importance of balance and tranquility, of a calm soul and a peaceful heart…but this world is a very dark place. we’re constantly bombarded with stress and everyones opinions and problems. we’re too busy because we feel the need to keep moving, maybe as a unconscious coping mechanism to avoid hearing all the negativity that is so readily available for our ears…whether we ask for it or not. this world is full of criticism and harsh words. I think there’s a point to it. and I think it applies to all aspects of my life as a grieving mother, a mom to two wonderful sons, a wife and a person. here’s my great secret…
we’re not supposed to be content on this earth…
God doesn’t want us to be. that’s the only way this constant pain in my heart makes any sense at all. I’ve felt so isolated and alone with these feelings and emotions…and then I realized, that discontentment to this world and all it has to offer us…means finding contentment for the world that’s promised to us after all of this…
I have always known that I will never get over Conner, and that the pain would one day magically disappear, but I never took it the step farther as to why it wouldn’t. why it shouldn’t. for if I skip over my feelings and try to find earthly contentment in what’s happened in my life…then I miss the whole point of life.
the yearning for something more…
something only God can provide. He’s promised to save a place for me if only I trust in Him and follow Him. For me it’s easier than ever because there’s a precious soul whose waiting for me there that I must not let down. my life and soul depend upon it. and I must lead and guide my living sons in the same manner so we will all achieve our hearts deepest desire to be a family of 5 once more. but this time forever and ever. and always, always, always.
God doesn’t dole out punishments to us nor does he want to see a single tear shed from our eyes. but what he does want is for when the storms come…the negativity, the loss of loved ones, the unhappiness and despair, because we all know they will come…He wants us to hold that pain and truth dear to us to remind us just how impermanant this life truly is. to help us yearn for the eternity that’s been promised. lets face it, we’re all one text or call away from a pain that has no cure. a call that will stop the world from spinning and challenge everything you’ve ever believed in your life. and choosing the pain as as a stepping stone to something bigger that God is yearning to show you is all I could imagine doing. and believe me it’s not been easy. I’d give anything to have Conner back. but I know how I used to be, the person I used to be. the things I used to do. the contentment I had in this world. my assurances of tomorrow. and now…a child of 7 has taught me more this past year about the purpose of our existance, and I know for sure that I never would’ve “gotten it” any other way…
so I cry and grieve.
I yearn and I hope.
I hang loosely to all that this world has to offer
and cling to the promise of a place much greater than this.
and I realize that being content in what this world has to offer is settling for less than what God wants for us.
and I’d rather have that instead.
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