I have put off writing for a while because I have come to a time in this story that I do not like visiting. I have written about other things, I have ignored this blog, I have left town, I have even resorted to cleaning house. But I have to visit this place. I have to face my worst nightmare. I have to come to grips with what happened so I can go forward. I think we don't want to face our past, our fears, our nightmares but we must before we can ever go forward. So pray for me today if you think of it. Opening up old wounds sometimes causes pain and bleeding. Sometimes I think my heart has bled dry and there are no more feelings but to go here to this place that I don't visit often I know it will bleed again.
Bart tells me the funeral home has called and we need to go view the body so others can come pay their respects. View the body. It sounds so cold. But I know that is what it is. A body. He is not there. It is a shell but it is a shell that I carried for 9 months, a shell that I loved and watched grow into a man. It is my shell and I don't want this to be. I cried out to God to make it not so but my prayers go unanswered. Why can't God raise him from the dead like He did Lazarus. Why can't I wake up and this be a dream? Why can't my life just end right now and I don't have to go to the funeral home and view the body?
With family and friends gathered around we leave. I sit numb in the truck not believing what I am doing. I am riding with the world going on all around me to view my dead child. It still makes no sense. We arrive at the funeral home and I can't get out of the truck. I need to be strong for my children and Bart but I can't move. Bart tells me I have to. He comes around and makes me get out of the truck. The boys on the other side. Why can't I be strong for my boys? Why do they have to even do this? My mind screams out and I fear everyone can hear my thoughts. NO NO NO PLEASE GOD NO. I look around and see the pain on the faces as we walk across the parking lot. I see aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, father and brothers. I am so mad at Jacob. Why did this have to happen. I told him this was my biggest fear. I spent years trying to keep this from happening.
The doors open to the funeral home and I can't make my feet move. I stop, a complete standstill. My husband, Bart, ever so gentle tells me I have to go in. He guides me across the door frame one step at a time. Each step hurts stronger and stronger because I know what I am going to. I tell him no I can not do this. But he insists I have to. I need to.
We walk past the desk. The young girl smiles. We walk into the outer area. Everything looks so normal but my world is spinning. A few more steps and I face reality. Reality that this is truly real, no longer a nightmare or dream, but my child lies ahead dead in a coffin.
We enter the room and look left. The breath goes out of me. I feel my body being held up by Bart and my boys. My boys, my two not three boys. There he lies. He looks asleep. He looks like he could sit up at any moment and say this is a joke. But it isn't. We walk one step at a time forward. Closer and closer so I can see that yes, it is Jacob. Yes, he is lying there dead. I see his clothes that Bart, the boys and friends have picked out. I see his grandpa's nose on his profile. I see he needs a haircut. I see anything but the fact that he is no longer alive. I can't breath. I can't look anymore. This is too much to take in. Bart and the boys move me to a couch where I hearing deep deep moaning. It is coming from somewhere deep inside me. Bart is stroking my hair, telling me to breath, calm down. I close my eyes. I tell him I will be ok. Go be with the boys. The are standing next to their brother. Their shoulders close to each other racking with pain. Go Bart be with them. Go be with them because I can't. I can't look, I can't breath, I can't go on. I tell Bart please please let me die. Let me die right now. I don't want to go on living with my child dead. My sister in law comes to sit with me and hold me. I close my eyes tight. I don't want to ever open them again. Sight is too painful. I rock back and forth with unbearable pain. I think my heart is going to explode. I hear the people around me, crying, speaking, comforting. I want to die.
When I brought Hannah to see her Jacob one last time, the girl at the funeral home told us we would have to wait, his brothers were with him. We waited outside the room, the door opened and Kyler and Zachary came out, I looked in their young faces so broken and sad. All I could do was wrap my arms around them and tell them how sorry I was and how much I loved them. After they left to go back home, Hannah and I walked into the room they had just left. I wrapped my arms around her, I knew she was seeing what I saw, Jacob. Our Jacob who looked like he was sleeping. Our Jacob who was never so still. Our Jacob who had left us too soon.
ReplyDeleteWow. I feel like this...often. If anything this post helps me to know that all the things i feel are a 'normal' part of grieving. Its just so surreal.
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