I'm getting the distinct impression that I am supposed to be learning something very important in these days. I feel like I'm in a suspended reality; like my life is not quite real right now- I'm only loosely connected to my past and my future. I'm living one day or one hour at a time as a survival mechanism, but it seems to be helping me reevaluate the order of importance of what is happening around me. I'm thinking more slowly and deliberately. I'm hyper-sensitive to some stimuli and oblivious of others, and my sleep pattern is irregular. But I feel like I'm learning a very valuable lesson on the brevity of life.
I'm approaching memories of David cautiously, almost like I don't really want to go there, because it jabs me in the heart to remember some sweet moment between us. Like a biscuits-n-gravy morning. If it was David's birthday or any other special day, a big, hot, happy breakfast could have been easily made with sausage, flour and milk. I can testify to the old adage, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach". I think it was the old-fashionedness about David that enjoyed seeing his mom cut out homemade biscuits on the counter. As unhealthy as it is, I must admit that creamy sausage gray poured thickly over hot, just-outa-the-oven, homemade biscuits is guaranteed to make a room full of boys happy. David would smile and hug me and thank me with true appreciation and maybe even a little bit of awe- it was always a great Mommy Moment.
When I snap back to the present and realize that this memory is the only place I can ever go now to do this with David, it gives me a tangible pain in my chest and my throat wants to clamp down. I hold my breath for a few seconds and then maybe I cry, maybe I don't, then I move on, shaking.
I've already bought the sausage for the next time I'll fix this family favorite breakfast during our holiday break. I know I will see David's smile and feel his hugs in each of of his brothers. I know he will still be staying close to us, as our smiling guardian angel, during the holidays.
I'm reminded of a book, "Practicing the Presence of God", I think that's the title, in which I read many years ago that God's grace is available to me in every single moment. If I don't choose to live by faith, if I stumble, forgiveness is also just for the asking in each moment, and then a new moment's grace is there, too. I'm wondering, if we knew our soul would be required of our bodies in the next hour, how would we choose to live in this one? Isn't this moment, this choice, the only one I truly have? Please pray that I will learn well this lesson of living intentionally in this moment.
God, help me to see and hear you guiding me moment by moment. Give me courage to make changes and reset priorities, as I learn what you are teaching me. If I can inspire others through this pain, let me be as the village child when the emperor was naked, let me speak the truth from my experience without fear of shame. And help me not be afraid of visiting my memories of David.
xxoo
On the morning of Nov. 2, 2009 my sweet son David suffered a major brain aneurysm. He died on November 14. This page was created by me, David's mom, as a therapy for working through grief and for staying connected to the many friends who have carried David's family through our great loss. For those who wish to read the beginning of David's story, a daily account from MCV while his doctors and nurses fought to save him, it may still be found at www.caringbridge.org/visit/davidfetty.
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