Saturday, May 4, 2013


Today is a heavy day. 

Yesterday felt good – lighter. I was able to drive across the mountain and visit with my good friend. I smiled. I laughed. I felt his presence more. I had more perspective.

But today is heavy. I feel like every step I take is like walking through hip-deep sand. Every breath I take feels heavy and labored. Just a simple task like putting dishes into the dishwasher seems insurmountable.

It hurts to look at his empty exersaucer. The pictures on the wall rip my heart apart instead of providing comfort. I never really could understand or relate to the scriptures that talked about “renting their clothes” until I lost a child. Now – that’s exactly what I feel like doing. Ripping. Tearing. Destroying.

Ireland has had a heavy day, too. Or maybe because she had a heavy day, mine ended up being heavy as well. It’s difficult to watch your child grieve.
It’s always something small that sets her off. She had told McKinley at Christmas-time that they could switch stuffed animals, but today she wanted her old stuffed animal back. And I told her that she had to keep her word and let McKinley keep it. That’s about all it took for a full on rage-attack. I brought her into Link’s room. She hit, kicked, screamed, yelled. I told her (again) that it was okay to be angry. I tried to get her to hit some pillows – I even put a pillow in front of me & let her hit it, but she kept trying to get past it and get to me.  Finally, I told her it was okay to be angry, but it wasn’t okay to hurt another person, so I left her in Link’s room & shut the door & held it closed. I listened as the tantrum escalated. She put the crib in front of the door. She threw Link’s diapers all around the room. I periodically opened the door to make sure she wasn't doing anything that would be really damaging.  I just wanted her to be able to express her anger in a safe way. I did see that she was throwing his toys around. She was pounding on the door. This lasted for probably 20 minutes. It felt like 50. It was so hard for me. So hard to listen to her scream & cry. She hurts so much. And I just WISHED and PRAYED that I could take it all away.  She always says it's not losing Link that makes her angry - she says it's something that her sisters said or did, but we all know better. She needs her brother. 

You know those times when your child wants something so BADLY (a binki, a stuffed animal, a blanket, a toy) – and you know if you can just find it, the second you give it to them, they will calm down. Everything will be okay. OH! How I wished I could just walk into Link’s room where she was throwing her fit. I wanted to walk in there and have him in my arms and say “Look Ireland! I have your brother!  Here he is! He’s back! He’s okay! Hold him, kiss him, hug him!” And I KNOW everything would be okay. She would be okay. She would calm down. She would have what she’s been missing. What she's been needing. He would fill that angry, empty void inside of her. 

But I can’t give that to her. I can search my house. I can search the city, the state, the world – but I wouldn't be able to find him. I can’t make him appear. I can’t go to the store and buy another Link. He's not something I can order online. I can tell her that he's near. I can reassure her that he watches over her and he's never really left. But it's not the same. She needs physical contact. She needs to feel him with her hands, not just her heart

At the end of February, I remember commenting to Jason how GOOD she was lately. She was just such a GOOD GIRL! She was so obedient – so loving – so easygoing. Not perfect, but amazingly good. After everything had been so wrong when we were in the hospital,  he came and made everything so right. The pieces were all in place and our family was whole again. Now that he’s gone, everything has gone back to being wrong again. There will always be part of our family that is wrong. So very, very wrong. Ireland’s world is all wrong and she’s mad about it! I am too… and sometimes I wonder if it will ever even come close to being right again.

Heavy. My heart is so heavy today. When I was driving and pondering about this deep, hurting heaviness today, a scripture came to mind. Can you guess what it is?

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11: 28-30)

Light. That’s definitely the opposite of how I feel right now. Somehow I have to find a way to yoke myself to my Savior, because this is just too heavy for me. It’s too heavy for my husband. It’s too heavy for my daughter. It’s too heavy.  


Diane said...

Oh my friend I am so sorry. I could feel your heaviness today. I wish I could help make your burden lighter. I wish I could make Irelands burden lighter. I love you all! I am glad you got a few minutes of quiet today.

Lisa-Lou-Who said...

I admire your faith and courage Heidi. Your words break my heart.