One year...365 days...8,760 hours...525,600 minutes. Or in the case of this last leap year, 366 days, 8,784 hours, and 527,040 minutes. That's how long it's been since I've held my little boy. In the last week or so I've had many people ask me how I was feeling and doing with Fane's 1st anniversary coming up. And I didn't really know how to respond. I didn't really know what I was feeling about the whole thing. I didn't know what to expect. And I kind of felt like I should be more of a mess based on the way people were asking me. Now that it has come and nearly gone I can say that it wasn't that bad.
In some ways it was just like any other day. Fane's still gone, that part isn't new. I still miss him. I still cry for him. I still ache to hold him again. What's different is that I can no longer think back to what I was doing with him a year ago. By now he was already gone a year ago. At this point, I think back to when I was laying in a hospital bed...dealing with the news that they had found him. But it wasn't him anymore. It was just his body. I think about the ambulance ride from one hospital to the next. Laying in bed all night, hardly sleeping. Talking to my sister in the morning. Coming home to a Faneless house for the first time. Hugging my brother when I walked in the door. My brother who we always say doesn't like to be touched. Crying and apologizing for being so stupid. Going to the funeral home and seeing his poor little body all battered and bruised...and cold. Wanting to see his eyes one more time...and so many more memories from the first awful, awful days.
I went to see him today. That's what we call it, going to see Fane. I half expected to actually see him there when I pulled up. Or at least I was hoping to. I sat and cried, more accurately, sobbed. I read him a story-Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You. It was a book I had bought copies of for all my kids. I planned on saving them for a big milestone like graduation or something like that. But I suppose it's message is so fitting for our current...situation (for lack of a better term).
I think of atheists and wonder how they deal with death. I have no clue how they cope with it. I don't mean that as an insult, I just honestly can't imagine going through something like this without faith in anything. It's hard enough for me even with my belief in a heavenly reunion. How do you deal with it when your belief is that they're gone? Dead. Worm food (as I've seen written so many times). Most of the time the only thing that keeps me sane is my faith.
This morning I got up early with Canaan. I sat down at the computer and got on Facebook. One of the first things I saw was a post of Jesus Loves Me. That was Fane's favorite song and we sang it at his funeral. I couldn't help but think it was one of those "God speaking" moments. It blessed me so much and really set the tone for my day.
Facebook was full of messages from friends today. People remembering the significance of this day. People talking about Fane, remembering him. There is nothing I appreciate more than people remembering him. When I mention him, it's not so people will feel sorry for me and remember the pain I feel. It's so they'll remember him. I want nothing more than for him to be remembered. And to know that he is remembered. So more than well wishes and sorrow for me, I love hearing people share memories of Fane and tell me how special he was/is.
I look at so many people and forget that they live the normal normal...if that makes sense. I've gotten used to an abnormal normal. I buried my child which is abnormal. And since then we have adjusted to a new normal I had hoped would never be mine. It's something I live with day in and day out. So I forget that most people don't live this way. And it still sometimes doesn't feel real. These things happen to acquaintances of acquaintances of friends. But they don't happen to you...until they do happen to you.
This year on the whole has been the worst and hardest of my life. But I don't really like saying that either. My oldest son was taken from me which was absolutely devastating. And it still devastates me on pretty much a daily basis. But my youngest son was also given to me. I can't call it a complete bust. I am still blessed in so many ways. I have five children that I am oh so proud of. Four of them live with me and one of them is waiting for me. Although, I suppose he's not really waiting for anything where he is now. I'm the one that's stuck doing the waiting. I have a husband who loves us all and has a good job that supports us. I have family and friends I can call on at any time. And we have an amazing church family. For all of this I am grateful.
This is somewhat of a rambling and ineloquent post. But I didn't feel right about letting this day pass without writing something. So to summarize, I am doing well. I read posts from other grieving mothers and realize I've relatively got it together. I'm in a good place. I still hurt...a lot. But that doesn't mean I've given up on living. I am changed. I am more subdued, less joyful. I am aged. I feel so much older than other people my age. Sometimes I feel older than people a generation older than me. I've experienced more than many people ever will in their entire lifetimes. I am matured. They say having a child makes you grow up a lot. I think losing a child makes you grow up a whole lot more. I have grown so much. And yet, I think I still have a lot of room to grow more. Year two has officially begun. We shall see what it has in store...
