This won't be cohesive, but it's where I am. I want to get that part out of the way. Many people ask, "How are you?", and still there is no way to answer that question. So here are a few of my pieces:
It's too quiet. Too quiet. The reverberating voice and hearty laugh is missing and that makes me angry. It makes no sense.
It's too quiet. The bass line is missing.
Even when it's not quiet, and it's busy...there is the anticipation of the quiet. The weighing in of our person, his opinion and viewpoint - all missing.
Even with seven kids. Even with their laughter, excitement, silliness and frequent reminiscence; it's too quiet.
I can't remember the actual day, but for the first time ever last month, I woke up and I wasn't "in the hospital" in my head. For the past few months, every single morning I'd be back at the hospital in my mind. I remember trying to make sense of it all; trying to create an alternate ending. Just so many thoughts. So, in order, to push through, I would:
1)Wake up
2)Open the Blinds
3) Brew Coffee.
If I could just complete those three tasks, in that order, I'd be fairly stable. I had to follow that cadence in order to float or glide throughout the day and swing from busy thing to busy thing. But, always anticipating the meltdowns, or eight of them. The meltdowns haven't been many, and for that I thank God. I'm grateful to Him for holding us together and giving us bright spots and innumerable beautiful stories. The anticipation of the meltdowns, though, has been the worst. Or better yet, getting through the day, getting through prayer and right at the very end.... full fallout. I also realize that this journey is fresh and most days we just look at each other in disbelief. I usually hate when people say this but, it could be worse. As much as Pat means to us, as tight as our family is- the fact that we are clothed naturally and spiritually and walking upright most days is miraculous and a testament to all of the prayers going up on our behalf.
Saturday June 4, 2022 was six months to the day that we rushed Patrick to the ER. I knew it would be a fight when I woke up, but especially since Avielle and Christian decided that they wanted to participate in Prayer and Produce for the first time since our loss. For those newer to the story, Patrick and the oldest four were shopping for food for our outreach ( Prayer and Produce) when he felt the pain in his chest and we took him to the ER. So "triggery" doesn't even explain it, but I was so proud of their bravery. I'll have to process and blog about that experience in a separate post.
Lately, I've been waking up walking through many chapters of our story. Good memories. Yet, still bewildered to be in this spot. All I wanted was to "do life" with my person. That's it. At times, it was messy, hard, and crazy, but it was our life. It was our love.
God usually shows me a lot. I've learned in the recent past that discernment is one of my spiritual gifts, but how did I not see this coming? This floored me and nothing could have prepared me for it. If Patrick himself would have told me this was coming, I wouldn't have believed him. Did I miss something, or many things? I'm a sensible person, and nothing about this makes sense. In one of the updates prior to the blog, I remember writing "God you are The Creator, nothing about this was creative." The most unnecessary plot twist.
One of my earlier prayer requests to a pastor friend was, "Ask the Lord to show me where to fix my eyes, because I'm flailing right now."
Every decision, every parenting decision is tough. The teamwork was unrivaled. We needed the balance. I'm out here doing my best.
I've had some days where the love and encouragement from our support system started as early as 6am. It seems like on those days God is "padding" me. So, if you're reading this and you have sent me a message saying "you were on my heart" or "praying for you today" or "you're an incredible person"-thank you for letting the Lord use you. It helped me to make it through one of the kid's unexpected crashes, or maybe my own. I read every single message/email and appreciate every single phone call.
I often share with the kids where I am. They comfort me when I cry, Amira sings over me. They encourage me, too. I'm so grateful for that. I can honestly say I don't live for my kids; I do life with my kids. Patrick and I always made sure that they understood that. Mom and Dad are not perfect, indestructible, all-knowing beings. Thus, we learn, grow and live together.
I was strong before this. I didn't need this. How was THIS the move? Most days I wake up thinking "How can I possibly do this today? Again?"
The kids wanted to watch a movie and so I told them "before you watch the movie, let's write encouraging notes to send to a family in Georgia who also lost their Dad." And without a fuss, the kids sat quietly and made the cards with heartfelt messages and stickers. That's all I know how to do. I am walking in who God has made me: We all are. Which gives me a little comfort- knowing that I'm walking with Him and can still hear Him.
Amira keeps singing "He is for you; He is for you." But I don't always feel like God is "for me". I know enough bible to know better, but I'm being brutally honest here.
This still feels like the cruelest of pranks. The past tense-es are excruciating. People say "time heals", but only Jesus...only the All Mighty God can heal this.
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💜🙏❤️🙏 Love you Sis
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