July 29, 2012. Today marks one month since Noah’s accident. One month ago right now, I had the kids and Bella loaded in the car and was on my way to Odessa to see the vet. I was worried about the dog. Both of my beloved offspring were carefree and feeling fine. It was only a matter of hours from then…and all that changed.

I cannot believe it has been one month. One month since I saw his smile, heard his laugh, giggled with him. It goes without saying that I have never gone anywhere near this long without seeing him smile or hearing his voice. All that I am, all that makes me his mother, positively aches for him.

Any comfort I feel always comes at a price and that price is pain beyond any other I have known. Yesterday, I hid in the bedroom with an old pair of Noah’s shoes just bawling my eyes out, touching them, smelling them, hugging them. I am desperate for anything I can do to allow my mind to perceive him, though I know it will break my heart.

All I have done this weekend is go through all the photos I have on my computer and copy anything with Noah in the photo to a special folder. Jason drove Zoe and I to church this morning and as soon as I saw the altar, I lost it. I sat crying into my handkerchief while Zoe held me and the rest of the crowd sang. During the sermon, Jason gave me his journal to write in. I could barely grasp what the minister was saying. I heard words but their meaning and the concepts they alluded to were completely lost to me. We left right afterwards, and I was glad. Here is what I wrote:

blah blah blah. what is this person talking about? redemptive conflict, destructive conflict. wtf does that even mean. the bearded man with the microphone stands in front of the altar talking. the altar where the small box containing the lifeless remains of my little son was placed. A tiny, lightweight box surrounded by cars, candles, photos and his special lovies. and now there is a man there talking about conflict and disagreements. this topic is so beyond me. all i can think about is the last reason i came here. when only days prior i was holding him, laughing, reading to him. playing. now, being here again but without my son in any way, it just hurts. i cannot concentrate on the concepts that this man’s words are describing. words seep through to me but they mean nothing now without my Noah; in a world spinning so fast it makes me sick. i can again think about all the ways i will never experience him again but even those are concepts i cannot yet grasp. my heart was divided, separated from me and placed into these other beings who took it, nurtured it and grew it in all their own ways. then his stopped beating. stopped receiving messages from the irreversibly damaged brain. heart, brain, lungs, liver, kidneys, skin. eyes still so green but lifeless now. his sing-song little-boy voice forever silenced. My son: gone. My mother: gone. tragedy, pain, missing pieces. these are the themes i am left with now. so unless there are words that exist somewhere to help me navigate, understand, even just comprehend these themes, words just seem to float right through me: loyalty, maturity, reality, truth. words words words. blah blah blah.

 

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