Grieving parents do all sorts of things in memory of their precious children. It always amazes me how in their broken state they find the energy to do so many wonderful deeds when just getting out of bed requires so much effort. Yet, I am learning that while their own lives are unrecognizable on the other side of Devastation Day, there is truly nothing they would not do to remind the world that while it may have only been for a short time, their child was here.
My personal quest has been to spread Amy’s goodness and kindness everywhere. I am not going to list all that I have done, but I find that the limited energy I have now is spent reminding the world that Amy Marie was here.
At some point I shared a poem that another grieving Mom took the time to print out and frame for me. She gave this to me last Christmas. Today, I had one of my grief bursts and in the midst of my despair, I thought of this poem again.
A Child Loaned, by Edgar Guest
“I’ll lend you for a little time
A child of mine,” He said.
“For you to love the while she lives,
And mourn for when she’s dead.
“It may be six or seven years
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call her back,
Take care of her for me?
“She’ll bring her charms to gladden you,
And should her stay be brief,
You’ll have her lovely memories
As solace for your grief.
“I cannot promise she will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there
I want this child to learn.
“I’ve looked this wide world over
In my search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life’s lane,
I have selected you.
“Now, will you give her all your love,
And not think the labor vain?
Nor hate me when I come to call
And take her back again?
I fancied that I heard them say,
“Dear Lord, thy will be done.
For all the joy thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we’ll run.
“We’ll shelter her with tenderness,
We’ll love her while we may.
And for the happiness we know,
Forever grateful stay.
“But should the angels call for her
Much sooner than we planned,
We’ll brave the bitter grief that comes
And try to understand.”
It’s a beautiful poem. Truly is. But here’s the thing … I don’t hate You for taking my child, but make no mistake, I am certainly not happy.
Yes, I am grateful that I was her mother. But how about if I just don’t want to be that special? How about if I would rather be very ordinary, as I do believe I am, and I get to keep my child here with me. And the natural order prevails, and I go first and didn’t have to say goodbye to someone who, yes, I gave all of my love.
Who among us wants to be that special? Seriously?!?
Yet, there is a voice inside my head that says just what if He had much greater things planned for my daughter and is offering her an eternity of blissful happiness? Would this ordinary mother deny her child that paradise? But again, here’s the thing, am I really supposed to just suck it up and “believe” in all that is seen and unseen and take comfort that my clarity will come when “my day” comes? How about if the trade off is that You show me now like You showed the authors who wrote books about their visits with You on the other side so I can sleep soundly at night because I need the 100% money back guarantee that my girl is just fine. Surely, if I am that special I deserve a glimpse of that paradise to ease my tortured mind, body and spirit?
Otherwise the trade off is this … my life now, without one of my kids, sucks. I can’t believe I signed up for this. Oh yeah, but I have read somewhere that my soul did and I just don’t remember? How about if I changed my mind? How about if I want to be like the majority of the families around me who have all of their kids? Are they less special? I really and truly want to be like them. Any chance my soul made a mistake…
No comments required. No worries, I still love God. I just want some answers about His plan? He sees my pain and He has to understand why I am wondering why I was selected? I promise to write a book too…and donate all of the money to charity. Deal?
Yesterday’s post was a mistake. I was just rambling and my BFF, my iPad, had run out of juice and I hit publish instead of whatever. However, I am of semi-sound mind tonight and desperately seeking some answers and am deliberately posting thoughts I should probably keep tucked away in my tortured mind. Too late … I am hitting the publish button.
Always missing and remembering my sweet Amy…