Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Once again the change of seasons are upon us----what does that mean, well, it means it is once again Taylor's birthday. He would have been 22-I had to think, just what would he have been doing, where would he have been working, what changes would I have seen in him as he was maturing from a boy into a young man. We didn't know quite what to do this year for his birthday, but just knew we wanted something much quieter than last year. We decided to just get balloons and ask Max's family to meet us at the cemetery to let them off and just do some reflecting on the past year. We all said happy birthday, Taylor, as we each let our balloon go off towards heaven, then later went over to Max's. Max's all left as us four just stood there around Taylor's grave all lost in our own thoughts. My thought first went to that hot, humid afternoon as some stood, while others knelt around his casket for the last time, feeling like our hearts had just been ripped out of our chest and all that was left was a big empty hole- and feeling like would we even make it until the next moment. It has been 20 months since that afternoon, but it was amazing how I could feel every emotion as intensely as if it was that very day. As I stood there looking at his picture, I had to think, just what are you doing today, Taylor? Birthdays mean nothing to you now, time is of no essence-one day is as beautiful as the next, no more sorrow, pain, tears, but instead spending time with Jesus!!! My mind slipped back to what Ron said at Taylor's funeral,--the death of Taylor is like an amputation--as I though more on this, I realized just how true this is. One day earlier that week I was listening on WCRF to a couple who lost their only son, who was five in an accident--and a friend said to him, don't let any one tell you that you will get over this in time, because you won't, but you will learn to live a new normal, then he used the same analogy as Ron, this is like an amputation. It is so true, I will never get over this-like I would never get "over" if my leg was amputated. I would be reminded in every step I took, that something was missing-my leg. Yes, I can lived a fairly normal life with only one leg, but I will never run and jump again. I am trying to learn to live with the "amputation" but must say some days all I can think about is how would it feel to have my "leg" back again. Maybe it is harder right now, because of his birthday and also we have picked out his tombstone. Going picking it out, was once again reality slapping me in the face. When I was standing there looking at these tombstones and trying to imagine what Taylor's name written big across the top and his smiling face etched in stone would actually look like. The thought would keep running through my mind--this can't be true, can't this be a nightmare that I can soon wake up from. The guy just called me today, to say that the drawing is finished and we can come view it before they etch it in the stone---I had to think this is the very last thing we will ever buy for Taylor, my heart just aches thinking about that--but again, I am feeling sorry for my losses, Taylor is safely home. It just has been a hard several weeks. Jeff was out in the garage cleaning up one of the fourwheelers the boys had several years earlier. He had me come out to see how great it looked after he took the time to wash it and paint it up to get ready to sell. As I stood there looking at it, so many memories ran through my mind--like when spencer and taylor would ride this one around the yard, laughing and chasing each other. I even got brave enough to ride on the back of it with them sometimes. They had so much fun trying to scare me to death going over jumps and around curves really fast---i have to admit, it worked it did scare me, but the more, I would squeeze my arms around their waist and scream in their ears to slow down, they would only go faster, laughing all the way. At times like these, I just want to scream ---I don't want this to be true, I want my old normal back, I don't like this new normal that I am forced to live in, but I realize I can only visit this place I can not stay here, or satan will have me right where he wants me--beaten up and destroyed. I realize that satan likes nothing more than to knock me completely flat and I must admit some days he does just that, but Jesus will always come along and pick me up, brush me off, bind up the wounds that satan has caused. I love the thought that satan can not do anything to me unless he goes ask Jesus permission. Jesus will not grant satan permission to do anything that can't be used for God's Glory and me good---but of course that last part I have a choice in---"get better or get bitter".