I didn't lose him. I know exactly where he is.

  I sat this morning looking at the obituary page.  I was not seeing the faces and words of people who had died but instead I saw the faces of the families of these people.  These weren't just names on a paper but they were someone's mother, son, uncle, grandparent.  For each one of the names there was a family out there who was suffering.  There was a family out there trying to make sense of their loved one's death.  There was a family out there who was planning a funeral.  My heart broke for them. I knew their pain.
  We awoke that morning numb from crying out in the middle of the night.  Startling awake with the hope that maybe it was just a dream.  But no it wasn't.  How do you get up the morning after your child dies?  How do you walk into the kitchen and fix breakfast?  How do you face the people who want to help?
  I awoke that morning and laid there.  Unable to comprehend what had happened. Having to relive each moment the day before.  Bart lay beside me breathing quietly but I knew he was awake doing the same thing.  Softly he told me we needed to get up and get ready to go to the funeral home.  No. No I don't want to hear those words.  I get up but shut my mind down.  I go into the bathroom not recognizing the face staring back.  That woman looks so old, so sad, so lonely, so helpless.  I brush my teeth and put on my makeup.  Yes, the ritual of getting ready will maybe bring my life back into control.  But it doesn't.
  We move to the living and sit.  Friends are already there making coffee and putting food in our hands telling us to eat.  The food has no taste and will barely go down my throat.  The boys look so lost.  Their eyes are so sad I can barely look at them.  I can't let them out of my sight.  Any time Bart or the boys leave the room I begin to panic.   They quickly come back to reassure me that everything is ok but it isn't.  My son is dead and we have to go plan his funeral.
  We go to Mercer Adams.  We did this same thing almost 6 months to the date for my dad. I thought at that time it was the most painful thing I would ever do.  It wasn't.  This was.  Bart and the boys literally hold me up and help me cross the threshold of the funeral home.  We were met by Randy Gordon a family friend from childhood.  He will help us.  When we go into the room with the long wooden table.  I sit down and put my head on the table.  I can't stop crying and shaking.  I do not think I can do this.  I want to throw up.  I tell Bart please don't make me do this.  Please make it stop.  Please bring my baby back.  Bart so lovingly puts his arms around me and tells me we will take it slow.
  Randy begins asking the questions.  I really can't remember any of it. I just know the entire time I have my head on the table with my eyes shut tight. I cry I shake and I want to die.  Randy asks if we want to look at the book with the coffins.  Tell me how do you pick out a coffin for your child?  I scream no.   No, I don't want to see their pictures.  I want the wooden one.  Just pick the wooden one.   Please don't make me look. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel my heart pounding.  I can not do this.
  Soon it is over.  The arrangements are made.  I have to stand up. But I can't open my eyes.  Bart and the boys lead me out of the funeral home refusing to look at where I am as if I can shut the world out.  We drive home in silence.  I fear we will never speak again.
  People come and go all day long.  People ask about pictures.  Bart leaves and comes back.  He has gone to the cemetery and picks out where we will bury our son without me.  I sit on the couch totally unaware of the world around me.  I see but I don't.  I hear but I don't.
  But I do remember one conversation.  It shook me out of my daze.  A former church member asked me if I thought Jacob was in Heaven?  I turned and looked at her and asked what?  She said well, she hadn't seen much fruit of the spirit.  With all the restraint I could muster I looked at her and said YES.  Yes, he is in Heaven.  I was there when he was 5 years old and asked Jesus into his heart.  I was there when he would come home from kindergarten crying because one of his friends didn't know Jesus and Momma can we pray for him?  I was there when he prayed and studied his Bible and witnessed to his friends.  I was there when he rededicated his life as a teen.  I was there when he would talk to me about his sorrow and how he wanted to do better.  No he wasn't living a perfect life.  Yes, he had doubts but I know what the Bible says and when God saves you He uses a permanent marker to put His name on you  not washable ink.  I looked at her and said unless you die the moment you ask Jesus into your heart then you are  a Christian who has sinned.  Yes, Jacob died not living the way he should but I know his heart and I know where he is.

  Today, a friend shared  her children's conversation and I think sometimes we have to see things through a child's eyes to get it.  They were discussing what Jesus looked like. Finally, the little girl said I guess we just don't know what He looks like.  But you know,  Jacob does.  He is looking at Him right now.
A year and a half later she remembers Jacob's heart and his love for Jesus  and she knows where he is today.  She gets it.  I hope you get it too.  Without Jesus' love we are nothing and we would be hopeless when someone dies. But because He died on a cross for you and me and the likes of Jacob Selby then we have hope that someday we will live eternally with Him.  I didn't lose my son.  I know exactly where he is.  Miss you sweet boy.