September 4, 2018

September 4, 2018

I am trying to write, in what I am calling my grief journal, daily.  I find it harder than I thought.  I can think all day and even have conversations in my head (yes, I am a little crazy).  But I sit down to write out those thoughts and can’t figure out how to explain.  So, this journal may have bad grammar because I am writing as things come kind of thing.  So, don’t judge me too harshly. 

The past month and a half have been the worst of my life.  But during that, there were some of the best of my life.  Some things I will share others will be in my personal journal that our way too personal to share with the world. 

The first thing I will say is there is so much good in the world.  Within hours of my son’s passing people were lined up serving us.  Our house was cleaned, our kitchen stocked (and I mean stocked) with food, our animals feed and cared for and people stopped their own busy lives to hold us and take care of us.  So many amazing people still live today.  Angels do live on earth.  And they came to take care of us.  I will never be able to repay the amount of goodness we were given. 

Here is the funny thing.  The world didn’t stop like it should have.  I couldn’t understand why the sun didn’t go out because the sun had gone out of my life that Monday afternoon.  Yet time continued.  The sun went down, the moon came up.  Although you couldn’t see it because of a storm that came in but went around where my son lay while the investigation finished up.  One of the many tender mercies that happened.  The next morning the sun came up on time.  I can tell you that for a fact because I may have been able to sleep for 20 minutes. 

While I sat there waiting for the mortuary to be able to take my son away, strange thoughts happened.  What was I going to do with his lamb that he was raising for the county fair?  Why would I think of that?  I just found out my son died, and I was worrying about a stupid lamb (and they are stupid).  I noticed that cotton plants have very pretty flowers before the cotton appears.  Once again.  Really?  A chunk of hair fell out.  I did not pull either.  In that moment I just thought, really?  I said a few words that I really shouldn’t say.  But nothing else could sum up that moment.  I kept hoping that it was a joke.  He was going to jump out of the cotton bushes and say, “just kidding!”  It didn’t happen.  But he couldn’t be dead.  We had plans.  Soccer was getting ready to start.  School was getting ready to start.  He was on track to be able to do college English in a year.  He was going to be taking Automotives, so he could have a good job out of high school and have a life skill that would benefit his family.  He was going to be there for his “best brother’s” first day of kindergarten.  He was going to be there to protect is little sister as she started junior high.  He was going to get his driving permit in 3 ½ weeks.  So, this could not be happening.  Yet it did.  Death and time didn’t care that we had plans.  They didn’t care that this was MY baby boy.  It didn’t car that these things didn’t happen to me. 

You really don’t get to mourn while preparing a funeral.  Which was not that hard.  It just came together.  But I still didn’t think I should be dealing with this.  This was never going to happen to me.  This happened to other people.  My heart always ached for the other people that this happened too, but it was never going to happen to me.  Not my story, not my life.  Yet here I was dealing with someone else’s story.  What the heck?  Why did I have to deal with a story I didn’t want to deal with and really didn’t think I should have to.  Life didn’t care. 

How quickly I learned what an amazing son I have.  So many people.  Phone calls, visits, social media messages, and cards showed up.  Every walk of life was represented at my son’s funeral.  The jocks, geeks, popular, old, young, nerds, loners, cowboys and any other type of group you could think of.  He was a friend to all.  I always thought my son was amazing, but his funeral proved I was right.  Small consolation. 

We didn’t bury Carsen in Arizona.  And I apologize to everyone for that.  But we always knew we were going to be buried in Utah and if the unimaginable happened our child would be too.  So many people wanted to try to make it.  I am glad they didn’t.  Not because I didn’t want that there, but because it would worry me.  I didn’t want anyone to get hurt or worse while traveling.  His burial was also well attended.  So much good in this world.