Tuesday, August 21, 2012

It Has To Be A Bad Dream

It has to be a bad dream. I just can't believe it really happened. I can't move forward. I can't leave him behind. Every thing has to stay the same so he knows I did not leave him behind. It all has to be the same when he comes back. I expect him to come back. I keep telling God I can't do this & I don't want to do it. I beg God to turn back the hands of time & bring my precious child home to me. Please give him back. The minutes turn to hours the hours turn to days with no end in sight only just to get to the next day & get it over with. My life is nothing but torture. No one really understands my pain. Others around me seem to be moving on. It's been 42 days. Never have I been seperated from you this long. I need to see his face & hear his voice. See his beautiful smile & hear his laugh. I need to touch him & talk with him. He is my talker. He always knows how to make me feel better. Those special words I love you I long to hear. I keep hearing him & I say I love you to each other before we hung up the phones. Four hours later no text & no answer. Silence............. I see his face from the day before & hear the words he spoke to me. Not left to see him again until 5 days later. I asked but was told you don't want to see him like that. Next time I asked I was told the lighting's not good he's not ready. Believing God would breath his breath back into him as he did Adam & fill his veins with the precious blood of Jesus God would raise my boy up. About three hours before the first service my precious child lay still & lifeless. Cold & hard to my touch. I lay my head on his chest to hear no heartbeat. This can't be true. In the clothes I picked & prepared for him. Special clothes he loved given to him by me for Christmas. He begged at the time to be given them before Christmas. I made him wait. I had to make sure everything was just right before leaving to go pick his sister up from the hospital before the service would begin. Never did I expect what I would find when I lifted the casket blanket. My heart sank in shock & disbelief. Laying the casket blanket back down as quick as I could so his baby brother would not know. His fathers face I looked into. He tryed to protct me. So very little time I got to be with him before he took his ride in his truck with his rebel flag waving behind the next day. His truck he loves. Like his mother it takes little to make him happy. It has to be a dream. It can't be true. Only seventeen. This week you are were eithteen. No cake No icecream No gift. We always go out to eat together. You me. Your sister & brother. Ballons on a grave. One with a note to you sent into the sky by us. I can't accept this. You have to come back. I call you. I text you. I message you. I talk to you. I beg God each day to show me where you are. I pray as your mother I did not fail you for all eternity. I saw this in my dreams in the weeks before. I told you my fears. I spoke to you of God & eternity. I prayed & trusted God with all my heart & soul each day through out the the day I would never see the death of any of my children or grandchildren in my lifetime. Nor they. I told God this. I prayed all souls would be saved before leaving this world. I don't understand or really believe. I seek answers. Your sisters screams the red flashing lights your fathers voice asking who told you that? The second the cop answered my question. Is he dead with the answer yes my heart shattered & my life ended as I knew it. I am no longer me & never will be me again. I LOVE YOU MY PRECIOUS SON. I NEED YOU MY PRECIOUS SON.